To Catch a Thief
by robinyj
Summary: Way back in S1. Spike wants the Gem of Amara back and is willing to go through Angel's friends to get it. Doyle, Oz and Spike-centric {Complete}
1. Introductions and Misconductions

Title: To Catch a Thief

A/N: Hello all and welcome to my first Angel fanfiction. I've written Buffy, I've written LotR, but Angel, now there's a new one for me. Hope you enjoy. I love Oz, Doyle and Spike so I had to write something that would have a logical reason for all three being together. This is what sprang to mind. With the new season in sight it makes sense to go back to the first one, right? 

Dedicated to Doyle!!!! I just started watching Angel, found a favorite character, and they killed him off 9 episodes later. WTF? Anyone know why he left? I'm curious.

Rating: PG-13, most of my stuff is. For violence mostly, few British cusses from Spike.

Main Characters: Doyle, Spike, Oz, Angel

Setting: Just after the best episode EVER "In the Dark", mostly because it is the only time my three faves have ever been onscreen together: Doyle, Oz and Spike. Makes for fanfiction fun! If you haven't seen that episode (it was awhile ago, I know) then I have added a brief synopsis of it at the end of the fic. Just the basics really.)

Summary: Spike is not the type to accept defeat, at least not the first time. So after he loses the Gem of Amara to Angel he decides that he wants it back, and will go through Angel's friends to get it.

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 Doyle held up a hand to shield his eyes from the green shockwave that burst out of the ring of Amara as Angel smashed it, destroying his one hope at humanity. He still couldn't believe that Angel could give it up so easily, not even try it out for a few days, take it for a test run so to speak. But if Angel was right, and it made him so close to normalcy that he stopped helping people, then perhaps it was best he not get used to it. Better to lose it now and forget it, then get attached for a few weeks and make a really hard choice.

 Even still, it took strength. Doyle wasn't sure he would make the same choice.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

 Cordelia smiled to herself as she tidied up her office. It had been a good night for them in the long run; the evil vampire was dead and Angel now had the ring of Amara, which meant he could go out in the day, which meant he could help more people, which meant he would make lots of money, which meant Cordelia could get those new heels she wanted so much. Yes, it had been a good day. Still smiling, she turned around as she heard the door being opened.

 "So, how was the sunset?" Cordelia asked as Doyle and Angel came in from the roof of the building.

 "It was great," Angel replied quietly, remembering the warmth of the sun's rays that the ring had allowed him, and knowing he would miss it. With the ring destroyed he would probably never feel that warmth again.

 Cordelia just nodded, still all smiles, and not noticing the sombre answer, "You know I've been thinking, with you able to go into the sun now that opens whole new doors for our business opportunities. You can do more patrolling, look for more helpless people, perhaps in the richer, more esteemed areas of town. Do door to door promotions …" 

 Angel cut her off before she could get too carried away, "I destroyed the ring."

 Cordy's face fell and moments later she slammed her folder on the desktop, "No! No, no no! We finally catch a break and you throw it away! What is wrong with you? Have you no decency? Have you no pride? Have you no idea how much a decent pair of heels costs?"

 Doyle moved forward to calm her down, "Easy Princess, he did what was best."

 "Best? I think it would be best to go out for a little stroll on the beach, save a few helpless drowning victims on a nice sunny day. But he can't do that now! Is that best?" Cordelia could never understand these honor and duty matters. The only matters she was currently worried about were her career and her wardrobe.

 "I couldn't use it Cordy, it was the easy way out and I can't take shortcuts like that. Trust me, it's better this way," Angel insisted and it was clear from his tone this would be the last that was said on the matter.

 "Oh, but I … Oh!" Cordy stomped away in a frustrated huff; she would never be able to get those heels at this rate.

 Doyle and Angel sighed and started to go after her but stopped when the front door slowly opened, a blond visitor on the other side.

 "Anyone around?" Oz asked as he peered inside. Seeing Doyle and Angel in the doorway he smiled in greeting as they waved him in, "Hey."

 "Hey," Angel replied in return, surprised but not unhappy to see the lycanthrope, "What's up?"

 Oz came in and dropped a duffel bag on the floor as he sunk into one of the chairs, "Not much. I was just wondering if you know any good hotels in the area, preferably something cost efficient but also grime free. I'm negotiable on the grime part though."

 "A hotel? I thought you were leaving this afternoon," Doyle questioned, taking a seat in the leather chair in the office.

 "Was. Can't. Van's trashed," Oz replied in his usual monosyllabic way.

 "What happened?" Angel asked, remembering it working that afternoon.

 "Wall got in front of me. I went through it," Oz replied, referring to the rescue staged by himself, Doyle and Cordelia to get Angel away from Spike.

 "Oh right," Doyle replied sounding apologetic. It had been his plan after all. "Sorry about that mate."

 "Happens," Oz shrugged, seeming none too put out by it. He wasn't really, he didn't mind having to damage material things to help a friend.

 "You going to be stuck here long?" Angel asked, making a mental note that he would have to find a way to pay the werewolf back, for the van and the rescue.

 "Naw, they'll be done tomorrow. Headlights need to be replaced, that's about it," Oz said, casual as always.

 "Well, I hope I'm not sounding too presumptuous but you can shack up with me for the night if you like, got a great couch with a lovely view of my television," Doyle offered, "You helped us out after all, it's the least I can do in return."

 Oz rolled it over for a second, then nodded, "Sounds good. Thanks."

 "Don't worry about it, Allen Francis Doyle always pays his debts. Unless of course they're of the monetary sort, then you're plum out of luck." Doyle said getting up to lead the way out. "We'll be heading out then Angel, say good-bye to the Princess for me."

 "I don't think she's talking to me," Angel commented as they disappeared out the front door.

 "What happened?" Oz asked as they entered the street.

 "Oh, uh, Angel destroyed the ring," Doyle explained, leading the bass player down the street to his place, "Cordy wasn't too happy."

 "Hmm," Oz nodded, not delving for any further information.

 "What?"

 "Nothing, it's just that other than getting my headlights replaced, this trip has suddenly become slightly pointless," he said, but there was no emotion in his voice to imply disappointment or anger, just mellowness. That intrigued Doyle.

 "Well, you got to see the beautiful sights and sounds of L.A." Doyle pointed out, trying to seem optimistic. There was suddenly a noise in the distance, car horns blared and people could be heard screaming at each other in anger.

 "Don't know how I ever lived without," Oz commented dryly. Doyle couldn't shunt him for the sarcasm.

 "Do you need to pick up your things?" Doyle asked.

 Oz held up the duffel bag, "Pretty much all I got. I hadn't planned on staying the night."

 "All right. I don't have a car but the apartment's not too far, you'll love the couch, I just got all the lumps just right," Doyle joked, but other than a look of amusement in his eyes, Oz made no indication he appreciated the humor, "Don't say much do you?"

 Oz just shrugged, "I say what I feel needs saying."

 "In as few words as possible I suppose." After that a silence drew between the two as they walked, it was not comfortable or uncomfortable, it simply stayed there as the two men considered one another. It was clear to Oz that Doyle was a very talkative person and for that reason wanted Oz to be as well, since one sided conversations are never that interesting. For that reason the werewolf prompted to enquire.

 "If you don't mind me asking, what type of demon are you?" 

 Doyle stopped as if shot, "How did you know?"

 "Oh, I'm a werewolf," Oz said as if introducing himself, "And you don't smell completely human."

 The Irishman nodded, but still seemed shaken. After working so hard to hide his identity it didn't seem fair someone could literally just sniff him out, "Fair enough. You really threw me for a loop there, I thought my spikes were showing or something. I'm a brachen demon. Half demon anyway, my ma was human." He paused, still considering his new companion, "A werewolf huh? Your mates know?"

 "Yeah, found out the hard way. I tried to kill them," Oz explained.

 Doyle bit his lip in thought for a moment, as if contemplating asking a question, "Did uh … does Cordelia know?" Oz nodded, "She okay with that? You being not completely normal? She don't treat you any different or anything?"

 "No, she was always cool about it. Never got a bad vibe off her for it. My fashion sense she didn't appreciate, but not many do," Doyle mulled this over for a second, then Oz continued, "She doesn't know you're a demon?"

 "No."

 "And you like her?"

 "Yes."

 "Good luck with that," Oz offered, fully understanding how complicated that situation could be.

 Doyle just smiled, "Thanks. Oh, we're going left, it's just another block." They continued on, the silence erupting once more. When they reached Doyle's place he led them up the staircase and into the apartment on the second floor.

 He pushed the lock in the key and undid the deadbolt, "Don't mind the mess, I wasn't expecting …." 

 The place was in shambles. There was stuffing all over the living room from the cushions that were cut open, drawers were strewn on the floor, the fridge was on its side and clothes littered the room. A few windows were broken too, making the floor a dangerous mine field and Doyle's meagre CD collection was tossed aside. What had once been the half demon's semi-liveable abode had quickly become a trash pile. Oz stepped in behind the shocked Doyle.

 "It's uh, not that bad."

 "What happened?" Doyle pondered as he stepped in further to see what was taken, "I don't have anything worth more than my shirt except for my scotch. Oh my god the scotch!" He raced to the liquor cabinet, which had been forced open. Several bottles of his better mix were missing but most of his supplies were still there. "Who the hell would …"

 "Spike," Oz sniffed, "He's been here. Couple of hours ago though."

 "He must have been looking for the ring, I haven't been home since I left this morning. Damn it, and he took my best scotch. I thought vamps couldn't get in without an invitation."

 "You're half demon, probably changes the rules," Oz walked around cautiously, trying to put a few small things back in their proper place. He picked up a picture on the counter that had been smashed, it looked like it was Doyle's mom. Oz found a chain of rosary beads on the floor that had been next to it and placed them beside the picture, "Sorry man."

 "No, like you said, it happens. I'm sorry though, here I go offering you a place to sleep and you get _this_." Doyle motioned to the apartment.

 "Not your fault. I'll help you clean it up," Oz offered, dropping the duffel bag and coming up beside the half demon.

 "I'm too tired. Let's just get the big stuff done and then we'll crash, worry about the rest tomorrow," Doyle said. Oz nodded and together they righted the fridge and discovered it still worked, fixed up the couch partially and cleaned up the broken glass from the windows.

 "I'm beat," Doyle announced, "You take the bed though, you deserve it after all you did for us today."

 "No, don't worry about it. It's your place, I'll take the floor." Oz sounded pretty resolute and even began spreading out some sheets. Doyle stepped forward to protest but ended up on his knees as blinding pain raked through his skull. Oz was by his side in an instant as the half demon hissed in agony and pressed his hands into his forehead.

 There was pain, not just in his head but a warning of future pain. Spike was there, smiling in victory, a bloody knife in hand. Angel, looking worried. Chains. Pain. Oz unconscious. Then Doyle saw himself, chained and bloody. Then more pain and then eight simple words: "It's life or death, that's all it is."

 "Doyle man, take it easy, what's wrong?" Oz asked frantically as he writhed in pain, shuddering with each new image. When Oz got no response he got up and searched for the phone, and then quickly realized he didn't know anyone in LA. "Shit, what's Angel's number?"

 Just then the vision stopped and Doyle folded forward, shaking, his arms barely stopping him from hitting the floor as he gasped for breath. Oz returned next to him.

 "Doyle, you okay? What happened?" 

 "A vision, a bad one. I have to call Angel," Doyle said, still gripping at his head while Oz helped him to his feet.

 "Why? What's wrong?" Oz asked, steadying the Irishman as best he could.

 "Spike's still around and he wants that ring."

 "But you said Angel destroyed it," Oz pointed out.

 "We didn't exactly send Spike a memo," Doyle countered as he finally got his feet under him, "Get me a shot of scotch, would you?" Oz did so gladly, moving over to the liquor cabinet while Doyle dialled.

 "Come on, pick up, pick up. Princess, it's me, is Angel there? Get him quick! I'm sorry I yelled but this is important. Yes. Thank you. Angel, mate, we got a problem. Just had meself a lovely migraine of a vision … Spike's still around. He's mad and he wants that ring. Yes, I know it's gone. No, I didn't get a location, just a time. Soon, very soon. No, you don't understand it felt urgent, like a message you forgot to tell someone. Could be twenty minutes, could be ten, could be right ……."

 The front door slammed open with enough force to knock it off its hinges. Doyle backed away on instinct and dropped the phone as a boot appeared out of nowhere and a hard kick connected with the side of his head, sending him toppling roughly to the floor. Angel's panicked voice could be heard on the other end as the phone slid beneath the kitchen table. 

 Spike smirked as he watched the half demon collapse, having already been off balance from his vision. Sensing someone behind him he turned around in time to catch Oz's wrist in mid-air, stake at the ready.

 "Now that is just plain rude, sneaking up on a bloke like that, easy way to get yourself killed," Spike squeezed down hard on the wrist until Oz dropped his stake and then backhanded him viciously, sending the werewolf across the room and over the ruined couch. 

 "Well, bursting in uninvited, that's not too polite either," Oz commented as he looked around for a weapon of some kind. But he wasn't in Sunnydale, this was unfamiliar territory and he didn't see anything. No crosses, no stakes, no holy water, no chance. But that wouldn't stop him from trying. Driving forward Oz ran at the vampire, tackling him around the stomach and pushing him into the nearby wall. Spike practically shrugged it off. He brought his hands down hard on Oz's back, knocking the wind out of him, then lifted him by the hair to strike him hard across the jaw. Oz fell to the ground, gasping and struggling to regain his feet. Spike growled and moved in for the kill when a figure leapt onto his back.

 "No one touches my scotch!"

 Oz didn't know who it was at first, but after a moment realized it was Doyle, now in demon form. Spike would have shrugged him off as well, in demon form their strength was almost equal, and Spike had the greater skill and experience but what gave Doyle a slight advantage here was the cross and rosary beads he had picked up and now burned into the vampire's neck.

 "You sodding git!" Spike cried as he smoked at the cross's touch, then flipped Doyle over his back and onto the floor where he slipped back into human form. Before he could move, Spike kicked Doyle hard in the stomach and then even harder at the side of the head, cutting open his forehead and sending him to unconsciousness. 

 Spike put a hand to his neck, checking the damage done there, "Everyone has to be a sodding hero and go on doing stupid things. All I want is my bloody ring."

 "Too bad it's not yours blood boy," The comment came from Oz who had risen once more and rushed at the vampire again. Spike spun out of the way, grabbed a knife from the table and then pushed Oz into the wall, crushing his windpipe with his forearm. The werewolf pulled at the vampire's grip but Spike was too strong and didn't relent.

 "Actually it is mine. I found it, I keep it; only problem is, Angel has it. Probably thinks it'll look nice with that poofter hair of his, but you see I want it back and that's where you come in," Spike pushed down harder on his windpipe, cutting off all air. Just then more figures appeared in the doorway, dark and pale, as they stepped forward Oz saw that they were more vampires, working for Spike. "You're gonna be a good little dog and give Angel a message for me. You tell him that if he ever wants to see his new little whelp again he'll come alone to the packaging factory at the corner of sixth and Douglas at dawn and he'll bring the ring, which he will give me to keep me from cutting _him into pieces so small they fit in a thimble," Spike drew Oz's gaze down to Doyle's motionless body. _

 "Think you can remember that?" Spike drew the knife down Oz's forearm, a trail of blood blossoming behind it, "Or do I have to spell it out for you?" Oz couldn't move or breathe so had no way of responding, but Spike took it from his eyes the answer was yes. Smirking, he released Oz's neck and allowed him one quick draw of air before slamming his elbow into the wolf's temple, knocking him out completely and sending him sprawled onto the floor. Spike sighed and threw the knife back on the table, his work done.

 "Well that was interesting, must do it again sometime," Spike pushed back his bleached hair, kicked Oz's form away from the doorframe and then motioned to his cronies to pick up Doyle's motionless body, "The things I do for immortality."

 Doyle moaned as he was hefted over a large vampire's shoulder and carried down the two flights of stairs, but he did not awaken.

 And soon after that they were gone. Down the stairs and out in the street. Doyle was tossed carelessly into the trunk of Spike's car as the vampires all climbed in, Spike in the driver's seat, happily humming to himself as he drove away, squinting through his blackened out windows.

TBC

Oh, I'm evil. Sorry, I love cliffhangers. Chapter two is about half done so it should be out soon. Hope you all liked and I'd love some feedback, I live off it and if I starve then there's no more story. 

Hope there's still some Doyle lovers out there, this is for all of you. Hell, hope there's some Oz lovers too. That guy never got the screen time he deserved. Anyway I'm outtie. Here's a short summary of the ep "In the Dark" for those who didn't see it.

Okay, Spike finds a ring in Sunnydale called the Gem of Amara that can make vampires immortal (stake 'em and they don't die) so they can also go out in the sun without getting fried. Buffy of course stole this from him and decided to give it to Angel. So in the episode Oz shows up, having a gig in LA or so he says, and gives Angel the ring. Angel knows what it is and hides it instead of uses it. Later on Spike shows up of course, wanting his ring back. He kidnaps Angel and tortures him, wanting to know where it is. Angel won't tell him. Spike goes to see Doyle and Cordelia and tells them that if they want to see Angel alive again they'll give him the ring. They find it but know that Spike will kill them if they give it to him. So when they show up (they bring the actual ring for some reason) they throw the ring across the room, as a distraction I guess, then Oz drives through the wall with his van and pulls out two crossbows, one pointed at Spike and another at his little vampire torture expert (who is a vampire as well). 

Cordy and Doyle free Angel and they take off in the van. Spike's helper vampire takes the ring and goes after some boy scouts; Spike can't follow him because it's the daytime. Angel makes the others go after the vamp, they kill him and Angel gets the ring. He walks around in the sun for a bit, enjoys it. Then at the end of the ep him and Doyle are on the roof and Angel destroys it because he thinks it's taking the easy way out or something and it would make his quest too easy. Really didn't get his reasoning there. So that's about it. Good ep, I liked it.

Please tell me what you think, and then they'll be more. I can write Doyle's accent out if anyone would prefer it that way, makes reading the dialogue more interesting sometimes. Robinyj ^_^


	2. Revelations

Oh look, I'm back!!! Yeah! Forgot to mention it before, I own nothing, they're Joss's and I'll miss them all even though they were never really mine. Thanks for all the kind words folks and here's the next chappy. Hope you all like H/C, I know I do!!!!

To Catch a Thief

By Robinyj

"Doyle! Doyle what happened? Doyle?!" Angel yelled furiously into the phone, having no idea what was happening at the half demon's apartment. Doyle had been explaining his vision then suddenly stopped as a loud crash erupted in the background. He could hear a struggle now and then, in a clear cockney accent was Spike's voice, "Now that is just plain rude, sneaking up on a bloke like that, easy way to get yourself killed." This was followed by another loud crash and then Angel was gone. He threw the phone away, uncaring and raced out of the building towards Doyle's. 

 "Hey, where are you going? Angel? What's wrong?" Cordelia yelled out confused as he raced by her. Taking a deep breath, and hating her own curiosity and natural anxiety she ran after him, "This is such a bad idea, these shoes are so not meant for long distance."

 It was a twenty minute walk to Doyle's, but Angel could run it in three. Feet pounding against the concrete he raced towards the apartment, his mind filled with what if's and horrible scenarios of what could happen in the short time it took him to reach Oz and Doyle, two of the few people in this world he could even come close to considering friends. 

 Just before he raced around the last corner a black desota pulled away from the building, in the opposite direction. Angel never knew it had even been there, he headed straight for the stairs, bounded up them effortlessly and came to a halt just before the doorway. 

 Feet.

 There were feet visible beyond the opening, and they weren't moving. Taking a cautious step forward Angel entered the apartment and saw the feet belonged to Oz. He continued on into the room after listening to Oz's breathing and heart rate, knowing he was okay for the moment. The vampire walked slowly through the ruined apartment, but it soon became obvious that Spike was gone and there was no sign of Doyle. This could only mean very bad things. An involuntary growl escaped Angel's throat as he pulled back and punched through the wall in frustration. He could handle when he got hurt, it was what he did, but what he couldn't stand was when others, especially those close to him, were put in danger because of him. Spike had taken Doyle to get to him. He had no idea what condition his friend may be in, but Angel knew now that Spike was a dead man. Deader than he already was.

 Would everyone he got close to, everyone he cared about, get hurt because of him? Could he not know someone without putting their lives in danger?

 The soulful vampire was pulled from these thoughts by a groan from across the room. Just as Angel turned to check on Oz a breathless Cordelia appeared in the doorway.

 "Okay, what is going ….. Oh my god." She was taken aback momentarily by the sight of the apartment and then her gaze fell on the werewolf, who was just beginning to stir. "Oz!"

 Cordelia crouched down on one side of the blond while Angel knelt on the other side. Oz was facedown on the floor, his shirt had been torn at some point and there were two dark bruises forming on his face and running down his neck. Angel could smell blood but saw no immediate wounds because of the way he was positioned. As Oz's eyes flickered open he groaned again and brought a hand up to cradle his head.

 "This is the last time I go on vacation," he grumbled as he tried to rise from his faceplant on the floor. Angel took one of his arms to help him rise, slowly.

 "What happened here? Oh god, you're bleeding," Cordelia exclaimed as she saw the blood dripping from his forearm. She reached forward to check out how bad it was and was surprised when Oz reacted violently.

 "No!" he shouted as he pulled away from Angel's grasp and stumbled backwards, halfway across the room, cradling the arm against his stomach.

 "Easy Oz, it's okay," Angel assured him, also shocked by the outburst.

 "Don't touch me," Oz warned as he backed away even further and looked disdainfully at the long cut on his arm, "It's wolf blood, don't go near it. Trust me that you don't want what I have."

 Realization dawned on the faces of both Cordelia and Angel, but they did not back away. Instead Cordy grabbed a nearby towel from the counter and handed it to the musician, from a safe distance. Oz took it graciously and began to wrap up his arm.

 "Alright, we won't touch you, we got it. What happened?" Angel asked urgently, "Where's Doyle?"

 "Spike took him. Him and a bunch of other vamps, they trashed us and left with Doyle," Oz explained, sounding apologetic despite knowing he could have done little against such strong opponents. 

 "What did he say?" Angel questioned further as he took a step closer and guided Oz to sit down.

 The musician sighed, hating being used a messenger for Spike, "Here's the big surprise; he wants the ring. Basic routine, give him the ring or Doyle's dead. He said to come alone to the factory on sixth and Douglas at dawn."

 "But … but we don't have the ring anymore," Cordelia exclaimed, becoming frantic.

 "We'll have to come up with something then," Angel said stone faced, anger visibly burning in his eyes, "Because we're going to get Doyle back and Spike's not getting off so easy this time." 

 Oz nodded in agreement as did Cordelia, though she was still visibly shaken.

 "We need a plan," Cordelia announced, stating the obvious, but no one minded.

 "You're right. Let's go back to the agency," Angel suggested, then looked at Oz, "And get you to a hospital."

 "No way," Oz said, his voice firmer than Angel ever recalled, "I heal pretty quickly, I'll be okay. I want to help, Doyle promised me a night on that couch, and he's going to pay up."

 Angel smiled faintly but it soon vanished, "All right, you can come until we have a plan at least. We got some first aid kits there too." Then they left together, Angel leading the way with Oz and Cordy shortly behind, Cordy supporting Oz when he needed a hand and all of them very worried for their friend.

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 They walked back to the agency in silence, Angel deep in thought, worrying about Doyle but also attempting to formulate a plan, Cordelia, hand placed gently on Oz's arm was thinking about Doyle, but also worried that Angel was going to start brooding again and he was never very fun or useful in "brood-mode". Oz walked with his head down, berating himself for having not done more against Spike, or having enough sense to get them both out of the apartment when they knew Spike had been there, and could get in again. He didn't know Doyle very well, but he knew he liked the guy, and the Cockney vamp probably wasn't being the greatest of hosts.

 Cordelia, who had less personal experience dealing with Spike, asked Oz tentatively, "Will uh, will Spike … you know … hurt him?"

 Oz looked up and met her eyes, "I don't know. He might. He didn't hurt Willow or Xand when he kidnapped them, so we can only hope."

 Cordelia didn't even flinch at the memory of that horrible experience, Xander betraying her or being impaled. She was that worried about Doyle, "Yeah, you're right. He didn't hurt them. Doyle'll be fine. Just fine." Her voice cracked on his name.

 Oz lowered his eyes once more, tightened the makeshift bandage on his arm and said nothing.

 "I hope he's okay," Cordelia muttered. Oz knew she was saying it to herself but nodded as well.

 Angel's gaze drew up toward the stars and he whispered, "Me too."

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 Doyle moaned. His head hurt. His whole body hurt. _Thinking_ hurt. The Irishman didn't know what had happened, he had just regained consciousness but still floated in the state of mind where dreams and reality mix together, when you're neither awake or asleep. But he knew he was in pain.

 "I must have had one hell of a party last night," he thought to himself, thinking he was suffering from the worst hangover of his life, "Wish I could remember it."

 He cracked open a bloody eye and discovered he was standing – no – hanging in a large dark room, with heavy machinery filling up most of it. There were two doors that he could see, each on the far wall on opposite sides of him and the floor was cold concrete. Noticing a painful strain on his arms he looked up and saw he was manacled to a heavy chain hanging from the ceiling. He tried to stand and found his toes only barely touched the floor, hardly taking any tension off his arms at all. Blood was dripping into his eyes from a large gash on his forehead, he felt surely concussed and he was cold, mostly because his shirt, shoes, and socks were missing.

 "One hell of a party indeed," he mumbled as he took in the situation and realized he really didn't like it. He pulled at the chains on his wrists, tried to twist them around in some way, but they were strong and even in demon form he couldn't budge them.

 "What the hell happened?" he wondered aloud. Suddenly there was light, the entire room was a blinding flash of illuminance and Doyle cringed as his eyes adjusted and his headache intensified. The sound of a door opening drew his gaze to the direction he knew the door to be in, but he couldn't yet see anything. Footsteps echoed off the concrete floor, approaching at a casual speed with emphasized clicks of a boot heel. As Doyle's eyes finally adjusted he saw who had entered and remembered at least partially what had happened to him.

 "So, you're the bugger that stole my scotch."

 Spike smiled, amused by the attempted bravado, "Guilty, I admit. Good stuff too, where'd you get it?"

 "Make you a deal, right fair one. You cut me down and I'll tell you, even get you a good price," Doyle promised, trying to keep his voice steady. He had to admit it, he was scared. He knew what Spike was capable of, had seen the damage he had inflicted upon Angel. Namely the pokers. And he knew the vampire wouldn't flinch to do the same to him. It was then he noticed the tray. Just off to his left was a small, portable medical tray covered with a white sheet. Doyle shuddered thinking of what may be underneath.

 "Well, how thoughtful, but I'll have to decline, want my ring just a bit bloody more than I want your scotch," Spike replied taking a drag off his cigarette and blowing the smoke in Doyle's face. Then he began to pace slowly, circling him as he spoke so the half-brachen demon could only see him half the time.

 "See, that's where we come to a problem. Now scotch I can get you, but I got no clue where your ring is, honest. But it doesn't really go with your complexion if you know what I mean, I think a nice bracelet might be better suited to you, or even one of those anklet …." Doyle's head snapped back and his rambling was ceased by a fierce slap to the face.

 "Did I ask for your bloody opinion?" Spike asked, clearly not wanting him to speak again. Doyle blinked rapidly to clear his eyesight and said nothing. When he recovered his face became set in a look of defiance; his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in anger. Spike just puffed his cigarette.

 "If you're quite done, I know that you know where the ring is, because it's pretty damn obvious Angel has it," Spike began but Doyle couldn't help but interrupt.

 "Actually, Angel destroyed it. You're wasting your time," Doyle said triumphantly and foolishly smiled.

 "Yes, of course, that I believe. The great hero destroyed the one thing that can give him everything he's ever dreamed of, makes perfect sense. I think you're swimming here, throw me another one," Spike requested, not believing a word.

 "Only one I got, and it's the truth," Doyle insisted but knew Spike wouldn't believe him. The blond brit had no understanding of the true honor and nobility Angel had.

 "Of course if this was true then I would have absolutely no use for you and might as well just release you now. Isn't that the way it goes?" Spike asked, sounding sceptical. "Doesn't sound too fun to me, so instead why don't we just wait until Angel gets here and find out what he has to say."

 "Angel's coming?" Doyle asked, unable to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

 Spike looked amused, "Should be here in a bit, unless of course wolf-boy forgot my damn message. Oxygen deprivation can do that I suppose. Blood loss too."

 A dark shadow passed over Doyle's features as he tugged once more on his chains. He didn't know Oz very well, but that didn't mean he enjoyed hearing about the damage Spike had inflicted upon him. It was then a sudden realization hit Doyle.

 "I'm bait." Until now he had thought Spike was going to torture him for information like he did Angel. It did not please him at all to find out he was being used against his friends.

 "No more than a bloody worm on a hook I'm afraid," Spike smirked, enjoying seeing the anger it built up in his victim. Then the smile faded, "But don't think that means you'll be warm and cozy during your visit here. Just being mates with Angel puts you on my list of those that should be maimed, but add to it that you made me lose my ring and I get plain pissed." He leaned forward as he said this and a sadistic light lit up his eyes as he stubbed out his cigarette on Doyle's chest.

 The brachen demon hissed and bit his lip to keep from crying out as the cigarette burned a hole in his flesh.

 "Trust me, you don't want to see me pissed," Spike leered.

 "You mean opposed to your usual charming self?" Doyle ground out through gritted teeth.

 "My you are a feisty one aren't you? Let's see what we can do about that," Spike said, enjoying a challenge. Smiling wide he slid his coat off and let it billow silently to the floor, then cracked his knuckles happily. He stepped up into Doyle's personal space, causing him to instinctively try to back away, and find there was nowhere else to go. Spike's smirk widened as he reached out and plucked the white cloth off of the medical tray that Doyle had been making an effort to ignore, but now that it was uncovered he couldn't hold back his curiosity. He wished he hadn't looked. A scalpel, a medium sized, curved knife, something like acupuncture needles, and a cat-o-nine-tails. Doyle gulped, really wishing he hadn't looked.

 Reaching out Spike seemed deep in thought as he decided exactly what would be best for this occasion, the trick was trying to inflict as much pain as possible without accidentally killing your victim. Usually the no killing part was negotiable, depending on his mood, but not tonight. After all, if he killed the whelp Angel would never give him his ring. He finally decided on the knife, picked it up almost reverently and twirled it into the tip of his finger.

 "Aw Betsy," he said to the knife, "we have had so many good times together. All the blood, all the pain, all the lovely music in their screams."

 Doyle was silent but shuddered. Then, almost strolling, Spike walked around him and as he passed behind Doyle he ran the knife along his back, from shoulder to shoulder, putting on just enough pressure to cause the right amount of pain, "That is for your little stunt with the cross," Spike remarked, pulling down his collar slightly to show the singe marks, "And this," he punched Doyle hard across the face and then twice in the solar plexus, knocking the wind from him, "is for making me lose my ring."

 Doyle couldn't even double over with pain due to the chains keeping him upright. Gasping for breath he kept his head down as he waited for his breathing to get under control and spat out blood so he wouldn't gag. Warm blood trickled down his back, dripping to the floor and his headache had just amplified ten-fold. He shuddered from the cold and shock and then screamed unwillingly and arced his back to try to escape as the blade cut him once more. Spike chuckled and Doyle panted. While the half-demon had been composing himself the vampire had stepped behind him once more and drove another deep gash across the small of his back. Then, an all too content look on his face, he drew another one, crossing the two to form an X. To him it was like artwork as the blood continued to flow. 

 "What's wrong ducks, no more of that witty repartee we've been exchanging? I'm a bit disappointed," Spike admitted replacing the knife on the tray.

 Doyle sucked in another deep breath and then raised his pain-filled gaze, "I can't wait until Angel kicks your sorry arse."

 Spike straight-punched him in the mouth once more. "Hmm, not very witty at all mate, that the best you got?"

 Doyle attempted a shrug but was too restricted and quickly becoming too weak, "I could mention that your hair looks like a boiled egg, but I'm trying not to make things personal."

 This time when Spike hit him blessed unconsciousness followed.

TBC

Oh, cliffy again. Kind of. I don't know, you tell me. Anyway, next time we get the plan, the counter plan, and of course more H/C, probably of the Oz and Doyle kind. There will probably be Spike H but not a lot of C since he's evil in this timeline. (H/C is hurt/comfort, I remember when I was new to fanfic, took me forever to figure out.) Anyway, I hope you like it so far and there will be more shortly. I'm also open to plot ideas too, I have lots of my own but someone suggested Wolfram and Hart and I hadn't considered going there but they may play a role now, so I do listen to my reviewers. In fact, here's a response to you all:

Imzadi – As I said, I may bring Wolfram & Hart into it, thanks for the suggestion.

Templa Otmena – thank you for the info on Glenn, already knew he died and will miss him greatly. Glad you like the characterization, it's hard to get down sometimes and it's good to know people notice.

Angelfirenze & Tap Dancing Widow – Thank you for pointing out my huge error, don't know how I got the title wrong like that. I'm just an idiot I suppose. I've changed it and thanks for reviewing.

Caytlyn88 – yeah, more Doyle fans! I find so few these days. Please, gather any more that you know of.

LadyLupin – Glad you like the characters, I love finding peeps who enjoy the same fanfic characters I do.

Brat64 – Are you not just the BEST reviewer ever???? I think so. You are so consistent, I love you!!!! All my Andromeda and LotR stories, you've reviewed 'em all and now here you are at my first Angel fic. You get around don't you? I really do appreciate your constant reviews, they mean a lot and they're so nice and detailed. It's a crazy coincidence that we like so many of the same characters, almost freaky really after reading your bio and seeing EVERYONE that I like. Hope you'll enjoy the characters in all my future fics as well, whatever fandom they may be. Except for Dark Angel I watch every show you do, just add Alias and it's the same list. Cool.

Lotsa love, Robinyj ^_^

Please R&R, it makes me feel warm and cuddly and I can't write when I'm cold.


	3. Switchback

Yeah, new chapter! I hope you're all happy too. I own none of these characters, maybe just the storyline. Hope you all enjoy and thanks for your fab reviews so far. My Wolfram and Hart knowledge is slightly limited, because I tend to ignore that part of the show since there's hardly any action during the lawyer scenes so if I make some mistakes tell me and I'll fix 'em.

To Catch a Thief

By Robinyj

 The soft, rhythmic click of the keys was all that could be heard from Lilah Morgan's office as she worked long into the night as usual, until her secretary paged in. Finishing off her sentence, Lilah turned from the computer and pressed the call button.

 "There's a call for you on line one. It's Casper," the voice informed her.

 "Thank you," She replied dutifully, then cut off. Putting on a fake smile to go with her charm she picked up the phone and hit line one, "Casper, it's been a few days, I was starting to worry."

 "You shouldn't worry about me Lilah, I can always take care of myself. Always, always," Casper informed her. His voice was high, jittery as always. Always paranoid was Casper, but very, very good at what he did. As sources went he was the best, not to mention the most discreet. Lilah had no idea who he was, what he looked like or even what type of demon he was. If he was a demon at all. But knowing the things he did, he had to be. She had her theories that he was a Hitbeck demon; able to shapeshift; become anything and learn a lot along the way. But judging from his nickname (cause she prayed it wasn't his real one) Casper was probably a Cartink demon, commonly mistaken for ghosts. Being relatively invisible and able to walk through walls gets you that reputation; it also makes it easy to learn everyone's secrets, and that's all Lilah needed to know.

 "Good to hear," Lilah feigned, "So, what do you have for me. It better be good after so long a wait."

 "It's juicy, if not a bit interesting. I'm sure you heard of this Angel guy by now, vampire with a soul," Casper began.

 Lilah nodded and replied, "Yeah, the name's come across my desk a few times."

 "Well he's got something. Something big. The gem of Amara. The Slayer sent it to him from Sunnydale and now he's walking in sunshine," Casper informed her, "Saw it with my own eyes."

 "Is that so?" she asked, also intrigued. This could be a big deal.

 "Sure is. But of course, he's not the only one that wanted it. Another vamp, Spike, wants it too, he was sired by a chick that was sired by Angel. Anyway, he tortured Angel earlier today, but he never got anything out of him. Now he's gone and kidnapped one of Soulful's little helpers, half-Brachen demon named Doyle, to get Angel to give him the ring. Seems a little desperate if you ask me."

 "Where is this exchange taking place?" Lilah asked.

 "Factory on the corner of Sixth and Douglas, vamp and the demon are there now. Angel won't be showing up for a few hours. This ring, it's the real thing doll, saw Angel walking in the sunshine myself. Even saw another vamp take a stake to the heart and survive while he was wearing it, might be able to do other stuff too, more powerful stuff," Casper surmised. Lilah didn't care though, she didn't pay him for his opinion.

 "Alright then. Thanks Casper. This info pans out you should find a nice increase in your bank account next month," Lilah assured him.

 "No problem. You need me to keep tabs on the situation?"

 Lilah smiled, "No, I think Wolfram and Hart can handle it from here." Then she hung up. Sitting back in her chair she thought over this information for a moment. Angel was just starting to become a blip on their radar, but if he started going out in the day, interfering more often then he already was, then that could be very bad. And who knew what else the ring could do, as Casper mentioned. It may have other powers no one had yet imagined. Best to get it now, before Angel had a chance to discover just what they may be.

 Picking up the phone again, she dialled herself, not needing her secretary to look up this number. The phone was answered after just one ring.

 "Hello sir, I've just been informed of a certain situation involving our soulled vampire," Lilah began, ready to report all she knew to her boss, but he cut her off.

 "Yes, we're aware of the situation," the voice began, "And we've decided it's best not to let it escalate. We'd like to bring this ring into Wolfram and Hart's possession as soon as possible. It could make a valuable bargaining chip some time later on. Do you think you're up for the job?"

 "I can handle it sir," Lilah responded without hesitation, "I won't let you down."

 "See that you don't," The voice sounded bored, as if the entire situation was over with that single phone call. Lilah started to say good-bye when he added, "And, we want it by any means necessary. _Any _means at all."

 This didn't surprise Lilah, which was obvious by her tone, "I'll have it for you by noon sir. Goodnight."

 The voice couldn't be bothered to reply.

 Hanging up again, Lilah picked up the phone to make her final call of the night, "Connect me to Special Services. Arms Division."

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

 Well Angel and Oz are being their usual talkative selves, thought Cordelia sarcastically. The silence was unnerving. There was so much that she wanted to say, wanted everyone else to say, needed to be said. But no one was saying anything, and that was unnerving. 

 "So, what's the plan?" Cordelia finally asked, unable to stand the silence that the two men around her seemed to live in. They had all circled around Cordelia's desk upon arrival and while Oz single-handedly bandaged up his arm, still allowing no one near him, silence reigned. Both men turned to her quickly, surprised by the sudden outburst. 

 "We wait," Angel said with a note of finality as he sank into the leather chair and entered deep "brood-mode".

 "Oh no you don't, get back here!" Cordy snapped her fingers in front of his face, "Don't you brood out on me, you're staying right here in reality and you're helping us come up with a real plan mister."

 "We could improvise," Oz suggested, not really meaning it but knowing Cordy wanted suggestions.

 "No way, I hate improvising. Every audition I go to, there's no script, so they're just like, 'Improvise what you would do if your husband had cheated on you and left you for a younger woman, and pretend you're a bird'. Like that would ever really happen, now come on. Someone leave _me_?" Cordelia ranted, knowing she was ranting but unable to stop.

 "Okay Cordy, calm down, here's what you're gonna do," Angel said, finally taking charge. "You're going to take my car and drive around until you find an all-night jewellery store, or pawn shop, or something, and you're going to buy a ring that looks just like the ring of Amara did, okay?"

 "Yes, yes okay. I can do that," Cordy assured him and caught the keys when he threw them to her, "If there's one thing I can do, it's pick out jewellery."

 She started for the door and right before she went out turned around and asked, "What are you two going to do?"

 Angel smiled, "Improvise."

 When she was gone Oz turned to Angel and asked, "What are we really going to do?"

 "I don't know, I just needed to get rid of her so I could think."

 Oz nodded, understanding completely.

Needing to move Angel got up and started pacing, back and forth, "Did Doyle tell you anything about his vision? I didn't get a whole lot out of him before we got cut off." Angel asked, not slowing his gait.

 "No," Oz admitted, "Just that it was a bad one. It seemed pretty bad to me too, but I have no frame of reference."

 Angel stopped pacing and sat down at Cordelia's computer as a new thought struck him, "Maybe we can get the blueprints of this warehouse Spike's staying in, maybe find something to help us, a trap door in the floor." Then he sat there, not moving, just staring straight ahead. Doyle did this kind of stuff. He turned to Oz almost desperately, "Uh, do you know how to work this thing."

 Oz offered him a half-smile and shooed him out of the way, then lowered himself slowly into the seat, being careful not to jar his aching ribcage. 

 "What was the address?" Oz asked as he typed, his mind was a bit foggy, and his head was major headachy. He couldn't believe he'd remembered what Spike had told him the first time Angel had asked him. 

 "Corner of Sixth and Douglas," Angel repeated for him slowly. He could tell from the bruises the musician's head must be spinning.

 "And you want architectural plans?" Angel nodded, "Well you got architectural plans." And so he did. There on the screen was a complete layout of the "Rebuilding America Paper Mill" on the corner of Sixth and Douglas. They both looked it over for a moment, trying to picture the situation as it would be played out.

 "Well, Spike's probably got him here, in this open front room, the rest of the building is too small and cramped to really hold a lot of people, or move around a lot. He'll want to be real close to the action too." Angel surmised.

 "Okay, assuming you're right. We got three entrances into that room ….

 "….. a door on the north wall, a door on the south wall, and a ventilation duct running out of the ceiling. We can get approximately three men into the duct, and have up to forty standing by behind each door." The crisp uniformed soldier pointed out each location on the map as he explained their plan.

 Lilah nodded, not seeing any faults, "What will you be using to handle the situation?"

 The officer turned and produced a sleek projectile hand-held weapon, "Easy shot stun bolts. It should be all vamps we're told, and staking takes time, it's hard to hit the heart each time. But we shoot them with one of these, anywhere on the body and they'll be out for a couple of hours."

 "Very good. Be ready to move out in the hour," Lilah ordered and then left the room, her usual confident swagger still implanted in her hips. 

 The soldier turned to his men, "Let's go! We're ….

 "… moving out. Come on," Angel bid his companions as he headed to the door. 

 "You know I'm not too sure I like this plan. It sounds an awful lot like improvising to me," Cordelia pointed out once more. She had returned to the office only minutes ago after finding a decent facsimile for the destroyed ring and been presented with their rather crude plan.

 "It's not," Angel assured her, "All you have to do is cut the power when you hear the signal. Leave the improvisation to us."

 Cordy just nodded, not agreeing completely but accepting Angel's plan. They didn't know what to expect when they reached the warehouse so this was the best they could do. Cordelia being the back-up, waiting in the wings to take everyone by surprise when the power was cut, Oz as Angel's cavalry once more, several crossbows, stakes and holy water at the ready, and Angel, all set to act as though he was the king of the world and immortal with the ring of Amara on his finger. They had to play it by ear, that's all they could do. Cordy had just one more question.

 "How am I going to know what the signal is?"

 Oz almost chuckled as he filled a mini water gun with holy water, "You'll know." 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

 It was cold in the room. Vampires didn't get cold so there was no heat in the building, and the hard concrete and sea breeze made the air uncommonly chilly for L.A. It also didn't help that Doyle was soaking wet. 

 Sputtering and shaking, Doyle had to strain his eyes to focus on the figure in front of him, fanged mouth smirking as it dropped the now empty bucket it had been holding.

 "He's awake," the vampire announced to someone behind the Irishman. Doyle wanted to turn around and see who it was, but was now coughing and trying to stand.

 An unwelcome blond head soon entered his vision, "Morning ducks, hope you slept well here in Chez Spike."

 "Morning already?" Doyle asked, voice raspy, "Night just flew by. And the service at Chez Spike is tres bad. I'd like to file a complaint with the manager." 

 "Well, the manager's dead so good luck. Unfortunately the fun is drawing is to a close I'm afraid," Spike announced, sounding truly sorry, as if he were saying good-bye to a friend at the airport. "Angel should be here soon with my ring, then we can have some real fun."

 "You don't honestly think Angel's going to give it to you do you?" Doyle asked. He knew the Gem was destroyed, but also knew Spike wouldn't believe him so thought he should play along for now.

 "Course I do. He's a smart lad. Well, not really, but he wants to save you and he's got a big heart. Should be fun ripping it out," Spike mused as he moved away, his destination clear. Doyle felt a chill go through him as he saw the vampire head towards the medical tray once more. The little tray of horror, as he thought of it.

 "Just for the sake of argument," Doyle gulped, "What happens if Angel does, you know, give in, give up the ring and all?"

 Spike finally decided what tool he wanted and tucked it away quickly, easily keeping it from Doyle's view, "Well that's an easy one. He dies, you die, and then lots and lots of more people die."

 As desperately as he tried Doyle couldn't keep Spike in sight as he paced behind him, "And what if he doesn't?"

 "That's an easy one too." 

 Doyle's body stiffened as he screamed in pain. It lasted forever, much like the ocean's waves, hitting the shore time and time again, never stopping or even slowing. It just kept crashing down, wave after wave. Except these waves weren't water, they were electricity.

 "He dies slowly, you die slowly, and then lots and lots of more people die slowly." It wasn't until Doyle's lungs had run out of air to expel that Spike removed the high-power taser from the half-demon's back. 

 Doyle fell slack and hung from his wrists, unable to support himself. For long seconds his lungs refused to work, would not allow him to draw in the breath he needed so badly, and then they graciously reactivated and blessed him with the oxygen he so dearly needed. Though the voltage was high, the damage it had inflicted was even greater than normal due to the water soaking Doyle's from head to shoeless foot. His body was shaking from pain and shock and he couldn't feel most of his arms and legs. 

 Spike smiled, enjoying this moment as he did all like this. Doyle's entire body shook from the pain and the cold. His teeth chattered and it seemed like the loudest noise in the world and he hated his body for doing it against his will. For disobeying him and showing this creature that he was hurt, he was battered and yes, he was weak. He couldn't even fight off the cold.

 "You know what your problem is?" Doyle asked, trying to will his teeth to stop clacking so he could formulate a sentence.

 "Oh do tell, from a man with as many problems as yourself, I certainly would love to hear your take on what mine are," Spike taunted and even pulled up a chair which he straddled backwards and set up in front of Doyle. Head tilted he waited, listening quite attentively.

 "You've got no imagination," Doyle began, feeling stronger as he went, "I don't know if you've noticed but both your plans, despite the slight time differential, end the same way. We're all dead. Now a smart evil vampire guy would leave a couple alive to tell the tale, send 'em out in the world to spread the word of Spike, the vamp who can't be killed. You see you fit the cliché too perfectly, 'It's all been done'. You smoke your cigarettes, torture Angel, you nab me, you get the stereotypical little minions that you just know are gonna get their arses kicked, you hole up in a dark, abandoned factory and set up this great trade off for dawn. If you were anymore predictable this would be a James Bond movie. Any idiot could see each move you're going to make, five steps before you make it. And it's because of this, that you always lose. Making you a loser."

 Spike's eyes took on a fiery anger, but his lip curled up and he casually reached out to grab an edge of the medical tray Doyle hated so much. He pulled it closer to him as he said, "You know what I think, I think you've watched a bit too many of those Hollywood action flicks they love over here so much. In the real world, this is how things work. But," he picked up several of the acupuncture needles, "if you really want to see some creativity, I can be very, very creative. Quite specifically with your internal organs."

 Doyle backtracked and pushed away as far as he could against the chains, "Ah, you're uh, not quite on the same track as me. Your uh methods of persuasion are not being questioned, not by a long shot, it's your planning I have little faith in. You see, due to your lack of imagination in this field, though you are able to set up these grand little situations, you never take the time to look at it from your opposition's point of view. You're just sitting here, assuming Angel's going to show up, give you the ring and let you stake him. It's never crosses your mind that he might make a few plans of his own, show up a little early, bring a few friends maybe, pull out some crazy magicks on you and then poof! Your plan goes up in smoke and you got no contingencies. Hell, if Angel were to break through that door right now you would have no …"

 Doyle was interrupted by the huge bang that resonated through the building as the doors at both ends of the room burst open. Men in black uniforms swarmed in, each armed with a sleek handgun and nightvision goggles. Above them glass reigned down as men broke through the windows, several even dropped from the ceiling, scaling down ropes and landing among the masses.

 "What the bloody hell? Who invited you?!"

 The vampires, all two dozen of them, had no time to attack they were so well ambushed. As soon as each man entered the room he was firing off a dozen shots a minute, with extreme accuracy and always being careful not to hit a comrade. Vampire after vampire went down, every time in a flurry of electric light. 

 Spike growled, his unimaginative mind not understanding what was happening. He turned to Doyle for some explanation, but the half-demon had such a look of pure confusion on his face it was clear that he knew nothing. A soldier scaling down from the ceiling landed next to Spike, who immediately back-handed the man before he could fire a shot. But before Spike could move on to his next victim he was halted as a shot of pure energy seemed to strike him down. The electricity was lessened by the leather of Spike's duster, but not enough and after his body tensed from the sudden impact he found himself going limp and falling face first on the floor.

 Doyle was confused, hurt, cold and scared and when he saw Spike fall bonelessly to the floor after a nice dose of high voltage pain, he fell over the edge. What started as a giggle soon mounted to a full scale laugh, it was deep and unnerving, as if bordering on insanity. The chuckles shook his body, overpowering the chills still coursing through him. Eventually the silent invaders had downed all the vampires and as they stood at attention, awaiting further orders the only sound in the great warehouse was Doyle's hysterical laughter. 

 When he finally regained control of himself he looked at Spike's prone form and felt very satisfied somehow.

 "You know what that is 'ducks'?" Doyle mocked, despite the vampire's unconsciousness, "That's your own medicine. How's that taste? Oh, how goddam fantastic." Another giggle began at this comment but Doyle reigned himself in before he lost all control again. 

 He got his breathing under control and sobered as he finally realized the sharp pain each laugh had been causing his abused body. And as the laughter ended he noticed that he was suddenly very, very tired. Looking closely at the situation now he realized he was as bad off as he was before; chained up and cold. Only difference was now he had no idea who his captors were. But despite what many thought he was an optimistic fellow, and took this as a good sign.

 Maybe these were friends of Angel's that owed him a favor, Doyle thought positively. 

 The soldiers finished checking out the vampires, making sure they were really out of it, and then the leader announced, "All clear!"

 At this remark the click of high heels could be heard approaching and in the doorway appeared a woman, beautiful, with long brown hair and a formal business suit, clearly tailored just for her. She headed straight for Doyle, unflinching at the carnage around her. Her smile was extremely fake but Doyle returned it on instinct, though he was barely able to lift his head.

 "Mr. Doyle, it's nice to meet you, I'm Ms. Morgan" the woman greeted him cheerfully. Two of the soldiers came up alongside her and began unchaining Doyle's hands. His smile remained, but faltered.

 "Uh, good to meet you too and your very silent, deadly … scary friends," When his hands were free he fell, completely unable to support himself despite his best attempts. The two soldiers automatically pulled him up, supporting his entire weight, "Thanks, you saved my life probably. I got a friend you should meet, I don't know if you know what these guys were but …"

 Lilah stopped him right there, "Mr. Doyle I think you misunderstand. My name is Lilah, I'm a lawyer with Wolfram and Hart." Doyle's face fell. "I see you've heard of us."

 Doyle gulped, "Only good things. Mostly that you represent the scum of the Earth. Stop me if I'm getting warm."

 Lilah shook her head as if disappointed, "I see you really have no idea whatsoever." She looked at her watch, "And I really don't have time to explain so …"

 Even though he was in no shape to fight back, the two soldiers holding onto Doyle tightened their grip as a third man approached him, syringe in hand. 

 "Wait!" Doyle cried out and the men actually stopped, and even Lilah shot him a curious glance. "Before you do that, would one of you happen to have a cigarette, I'm dying here and I'd like to slowly kill a few of you too."

 Lilah rolled her eyes and motioned for the men to ignore him. Doyle cringed and tried to pull away, but in the end the needle found its mark in his neck and the world around him faded to a dull black.

 "Let's move out," the captain called and his men immediately formed single file lines and marched out of the building, silent as always. The two men carrying Doyle went last, being neither careful nor rough as they dragged the half-brachen demon through the warehouse and into the waiting van. Once in the back the soldiers took their seats, as if designated, and Doyle was seated on the floor, propped against the wall and cuffed in place.

 Smiling and mentally telling herself it was a job well done, Lilah stepped over Spike's still motionless form and left a single calling card on the floor directly beneath the dangling manacles.

**Wolfram & Hart Law Firm**

TBC

Thanks for coming out everyone. This is getting exciting and poor Doyle seems to be having a horrible time. Isn't it wonderful? Please, I'd love to hear what you think and any suggestions you may have. The storyline isn't written in stone yet so if you have an idea let me know, I may use it.

To my wonderful reviewers thus far:

Greywolf Lupous – Hey, I haven't heard from you in awhile! (You reviewed my YJ fics way back when, I believe) Thanks for the review, glad you're enjoying the read. Thanks for putting me on the list. I was reading some other people you have on there, I like Goody too. Doyle and Oz are the best. I couldn't find any fics with them together so I had to make one myself. Isn't that always the way?

Random Insane Person – Great username first off. Aw, we like all the same characters. That's cool. 

Arsenal13 – I'm with you on the Doyle love. He was a greatly underused character.

Templa Otmena – I understand the coursework. Yeah for the long weekend!!!! Poor Doyle indeed, I have not yet begun! 

Reyvin – Another Doyle misser. Man, they made a big mistake killing him off. He never even got a guest appearance or anything afterwards, that really irks me.

Ivy – I love finding these people that love all three of these characters. Two years! Bummer, I couldn't take it. They're good seasons though, worth the wait. (season 5 was my fave)

Storm079 – hehehe, my little BamBam, I'd almost forgotten about that. I'll work it in somewhere. Promise.

Brat64 – You like Will on Alias? I'm all about the Vaughn love. Michael Vartan, take my breathe away! I liked that line too, didn't think it was that funny, but whatever floats your boat. Spike evil, yes. But we may see a touch of that goodness in a few chappies. The scotch line came naturally really, you can't write about Doyle without mentioning scotch. Your reviews are so awesome. Thanks so much for all the kind comments. It's great to know you appreciate all those small details.

Caytlyn88 – Mmmm, chicken soup. Oh, you're writing a Doyle fic too? I'll be sure to check that out. 

IMzadi – I did use the Wolfram and Hart suggestion, but I took things a little differently. I did really think over your ideas though and thanks for them. 

Tap Dancing Widow – I'm not sure if Oz's blood would affect Angel but I read a great fanfic once where Oz got bitten by a vamp and that vamp became like a werewolf vamp, I thought it was very well written so I go by that even though I doubt many have read it.

Sethoz – the Oz H/C is coming in a bit, working on Doyle right now. Sorry, no Linsey, I don't feel I know his character well enough to write. 

Thanks for these great reviews. Please, keep them coming.


	4. Deals with the Blond Devil

Next chapter! Yeah! This story's so fun to write, hope it's fun to read. Anyway, I don't own them, never will. Thanks for the reviews. More soon. Think that's about it. Better get on with it.

To Catch a Thief

By Robinyj

It was almost dawn. There was no need to say this aloud, everyone in the car was painfully aware of the time. Angel was driving, surprisingly calm considering the circumstances, with a stoic Cordy in the passenger seat and Oz lounging in the back. The silence was broken only by the soft lull of the radio and the sounds of car horns blaring at each other in the background. It wasn't until they were a few blocks away from the building, a few blocks away from getting Doyle back, that Angel said anything.

 "I know we went over this but I need both of you to remember that Spike's unpredictable. He doesn't like to play by the rules, so anything you think may happen, forget it. Spike has always liked being … unique." Angel explained. He knew that they both knew this but had to make sure they were prepared for anything, Doyle's life may depend on it.

 "With fashion sense like that I'm not surprised," Cordy muttered, still staring away in the distance.

 "How many vamps you think we're talking?" Oz asked from the back as he re-checked his crossbows. 

 "No way to know, but I don't think very many. Spike had to move here from Sunnydale pretty quickly, he probably didn't have time to take a whole lot of back up with him," Angel replied. Oz just nodded. 

 "So what happens when Spike figures out that we gave him a fake ring?" Cordelia asked, thinking into the future. To her this was like any other mission they had done before, here and in Sunnydale, and if you had a plan you succeeded. Therefore, since they had a plan, this job would be a synch. But then there was the future to worry about, which Cordelia did often.

 "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, right now I just care about Doyle … and Spike," Angel's voice was venom as he suddenly turned the car sharply, at an almost ninety degree angle into a parking spot, causing Cordy and Oz to brace themselves against the power of the inertia it caused.

 "I guess we're here," Oz said as the car was shut down. Angel got out first, fierce anger in his overloud steps. Oz and Cordy both got out slower, a bit more wary. 

 Once out of the jet black convertible Oz looked it over for the first time, appreciating it, "You know, this is a nice car." He commented, but Angel did not turn around, he seemed to be searching the night air, by sight and smell.

 "Yeah, it goes with _all of his outfits," Cordelia noted, obviously referring to the dark color of the vehicle as well as Angel's attire._

 "You gotta be true to yourself," Oz pointed out, his words holding more meaning than the light comment would from anyone else. Cordy offered an appreciative half smile and nodded.

 It was then they noticed that Angel had still not turned around.

 "Angel, what's wrong?" Cordelia asked, coming up beside him.

 "Something's not right. Doyle and Spike are both close by, I can smell them … or at least they _were. There are a lot of scents in the air, mostly human," he shook his head as if to clear them all away. "It's probably nothing."_

 But Oz sniffed as well and had to agree with his first opinion, "You're right, there's been a lot of activity here recently."

 That only motivated Angel more, "Okay, let's go." They were two streets down from the factory, it was in sight but anyone looking for them had most likely not spotted them yet. They started toward the paper mill, seemingly determined and confident

 When they neared the front of the building Angel handed Cordelia the wire cutters he'd brought. 

 "The fusebox should be on the other side of the building. Cut it when you hear the signal," Angel instructed again.

 Cordy stared at the wire cutters for a long time, then, taking a deep breath, she took them from him and smiled. As she jogged away from the two and disappeared around the corner she could be heard murmuring her usual mantra to herself:

 "I am a somebody. I matter. People will be attracted to my positive energy and help me achieve my goals…"

 Oz looked at Angel, "I usually hum Jagger, but whatever works for her."

 Angel's gaze was directed firmly at the wooden door in front of them, "You ready?" he asked, his voice cold and hard. Oz stiffened and held up both his crossbows.

 "Count on it." And he would. Oz was his back up and he may need him.

 "Good." With only two steps, each filled with determination and strength, Angel reached the door and swiftly knocked it down with a powerful round house that sent the wood flying. Stepping inside with an arrogant smirk on his face, Angel was stopped in his tracks by the sight before him.

 "This was insanely easy." He commented, slightly confused.

 Oz came up behind him after a few moments, curious as to the lack of corny bad guy banter or serious ass-kicking. Looking inside, he saw what had stopped Angel. Lowering his crossbow to his side he grunted and half shrugged his shoulders.

 "That positive energy of Cordy's must pack quite a punch; these guys are out cold," Oz pointed out, stepping further into the room and nudging one of the still forms on the floor. The warehouse was littered with bodies, all clearly vampires, and obviously unconscious. There was little sign of a fight and no indication as to what had caused the massacre. The only movement in the factory was made by them; without a need for oxygen the demons did not even breathe in sleep. 

 Angel too was curious; the smell of humans was much stronger in here, but there was no fear as there would be with hostages, it was almost as if a group of men had done this.

 "Why?" Angel asked aloud as he also checked the conscious level of a nearby vamp.

 "Well like you said, it's unique. Knock yourself out before we get here, lull us into a false sense of security perhaps," Oz offered, but Angel wasn't listening. Any movement in the factory was obvious due to its stillness and across the room a single body was stirring from the floor and seemingly attempting to rise. Angel sprang forward, leaping over prone bodies until he reached the only moving figure on the floor; it figured, it was Spike.

 "Cor, I need to get the number of that truck that hit me and the names and addresses of his family members," Spike muttered as he managed to get to his knees. The room around him spun wildly and his limbs were not responding properly. Then suddenly he was flying. The ground disappeared from beneath him and he was soaring through the air. Nothing could touch him; he felt free and he laughed. He was far too disoriented to notice that he had actually just been hauled up by the lapels of his coat.

 "Where the hell is he? Spike! Are you listening to me? Spike!" Angel shook the smaller vampire again, trying to gain his attention. Spike just laughed again and held out his arms, as if he were an airplane.

 "Wheeeeeeee….." Spike whispered and then the ride ended. Angel threw him across the room and into the closest wall with enough force to knock him back to his senses. Coughing and rubbing his head Spike slowly picked himself up from the floor and leaned against the wall for support. When his eyes focussed the glazed look was gone and it was clear he now understood where he was and what was happening. Angel stood before him, taking slow, meaningful steps to cover the distance between them, while Oz stood in the background, crossbow at the ready in case any of Spike's minions decided to wake up. 

 Spike sighed as Angel drew near him again, "Look you got your bloody whelp back. Do we really need to go through the whole 'get out of my town' speech and obligatory beat down of the bad guy?"

 Angel's face contorted to its vampire visage and he took hold of Spike's collar once more, "I haven't gotten anything back! Now you can tell me where Doyle is now or we can talk about it as your arms are slowly severed from your body!"

 "Now that's a bit harsh don't you think? Severed from me body, getting a bit gruesome now aren't we? A simple daylight threat would have …" Angel slammed him against the stone wall. Spike grunted, winced as his headache extended to down his spine and said slowly, "I don't know, all right? A bunch of very well armed, military brutes busted in here and … hey, is that my ring?" Spike's full attention was now on the hand around his lapel that was decorated with the fake ring of Amara. He even reached for it, quite carefully, as if expecting Angel to let him look at it if he promised to be gentle with it. Instead Angel released the Brit and struck him hard across the face with the very hand he had been admiring.

 "I'm serious Spike, you have ten seconds." Angel promised, "One!"

 "Look I don't know!"

 "Two."

 "Why would I bloody lie?"

 "Three … oh screw it, I'm testing out my new ring. Ten!"

 Spike held up his hands as Angel approached, knowing he would be no match for his sire while he wore the ring of Amara and coursed with its immortality. Of course, he had no clue that it was a fake. 

 "Honest, I don't know where your Mick is. Guys in fancy suits and very painful but spiffy looking guns came in here, fired up worse than Dru after feeding on a bloke with a drug habit. They took your mate and I wasn't too inclined to stop them," Spike assured the threatening figure. 

 Angel ceased his assault but was sceptical, "Who would want to …"

 "Wolfram & Hart?" Oz interrupted from behind. Angel spun to see the musician crouched on the ground, just under a bloody set of manacles that hung from the ceiling. Angel had no illusions of what the restraints had been used for but kept his anger in check for now. If he killed Spike he might never find Doyle. 

 Oz held up the business card, "Found it on the floor. Says it's a law firm. You heard of them?"

 "Yeah, I have," Angel pulled an identical card from his front coat pocket. "Damn."

 "Would they take Doyle?" Oz asked and Angel nodded to the affirmative, "Guess we better get going then."

 Oz held out the card to Angel, showing him a message that had been neatly scrawled on the back.

_ A business deal is offered to you for one time only: the Gem of Amara in exchange for the brachen demon's life. If you agree to the terms of this settlement then be at the parking garage on __Wellington__ at __10 am__. Punctuality is appreciated._

 "Who are these guys?" Oz asked, disgusted by their arrogance.

 "Lawyers," Angel grumbled, turning over the card again. 

 "Hmm, worse than demons and twice as hard to kill," Oz pointed out.

 Spike, attempting nonchalance, walked between them, shrugging off his headache, "Well, you seem to have gotten your answers so I'll just be off, it's been fun, as always." Smiling as if saying farewell to an old friend, Spike even reached out and shook Angel's hand vigorously.

 "Been great seeing you again," he lied and when he tried to pull away, he couldn't. Angel held a death grip on his hand, whose fingers had nimbly been attempting to pry the ring from Angel's finger, and wouldn't let go.

 "Don't even try it Spike," Angel warned as he grinded Spike's hand in his own. Long moments passed and the tension between the two grew as their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Angel smirked and to Oz it seemed he had just come up with a great idea, then he released Spike in disgust. "There's only way you're getting this ring."

 "Prying it off your cold dead fingers? I can arrange for that," Spike promised, slowly backing out of the room, Angel's gaze fixed on him, as well as Oz's crossbow.

 "Actually, there's another way. I'll give it to you." Angel's voice was deep with promise.

 Spike snorted, "Yeah sure, give me a beating with it. You're more cracked than your whelp. You, giving up your one chance at sunshine and daisies, I'm sure."

 "I will. You help us and the ring's all yours," Angel promised and Spike, foolish bloke he was, was starting to believe him.

 "Me? Help you? Oh this is rich, and what would you have me do?" Spike asked, sauntering forward again and sitting to straddle a nearby chair.

 "You'd be our wildcard. These guys have been keeping tabs on me, I know it. They probably already know Oz is here, but _you_. They'd never guess you would be backing me up. So, you help us get Doyle back, alive and I'll give you this ring that you worked so hard for." Angel offered and could see the wheels turning in Spike's head as he thought it over.

 "Pretty simple, we get Doyle and you get the ring. You're not going to get a better deal," Oz chimed in, following Angel's line of thinking. Spike's eyes lingered on Angel's finger where the fake Ring of Amara rested.

 "All right, you got a deal, you have to swear though," Spike announced.

 "Swear what?" Angel asked.

 Spike took a step forward, got in Angel's personal space and said firmly, "You swear on the head of your pretty little slayer that you will abide by the oral agreements we just reached here. Swear on her head, or no deal."

 Angel smiled, "You seemed to have learned from our lawyer friends, makes me curious. But I'm game. I swear, on Buffy's life, that if you help us get Doyle back alive then I will give you this ring willingly." Spike nodded his appreciation of the gesture, until Angel added, "Now your turn."

 The blond understood and raised his right hand in a mock boy scout salute, "I swear on the undead life of my dear Dru that I will help you get back your Mick before supper time, so we can all get pissed and I can get my ring." He didn't even cross his fingers. Angel looked pleased with that promise. 

 "Looks like we've got ourselves a posse," Oz commented, casually slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. It was then that the vampire behind him that had woken up decided to attack.

 Taken totally by surprise, Oz fell hard to the ground when the vamp jumped on his back, levelling him and making his head spin. Having taken one down the demon jumped up and lunged for Angel, who casually grabbed his shirt and threw him into a large pile of metal support beams. A huge crash resounded through the factory as the poles fell into one another and rolled across the hard concrete floor. When the vamp managed to free himself from the jumble he moved to attack again but didn't get far as a shaft of wood suddenly penetrated his heart.

 From his position on the ground Oz mumbled as he slid away the crossbow he had just fired, "Not my day with vamps." Angel reached out a hand to help him back up, which Oz took and then stood unsteadily on his feet. He had been pretty sure he had a concussion since Spike had first floored him at Doyle's, but now, as the room spun around him, he was positive. No time to complain about it now though, they had bigger things to worry about.

 Angel shot Spike a death glare before turning to Oz and asking, "You okay?"

 Oz shook his head to clear away the cobwebs; it only helped slightly, "Yeah, I'm good. No big."

 Angel glared at Spike once more.

 "Oh come on, like that was my fault. Not as though I have some psychic connection with my idiotic crew do I? You should know most of all how hard it is to …." Spike stopped. It was suddenly very dark, "Um, what happened to the lights?"

 "Cordelia," Angel mumbled, "She must have thought the crash was the sign."

 "What sign?" Spike asked, still unable to see anything. It was too dark for the eyes of either vampire or werewolf.

 "The sign to cut off the power," Oz replied, his voice getting further away. He was heading for the door. "Cordy, it's okay. Turn the power back on!"

 "What?" Cordy called back.

 "Turn the power back on!" Oz shouted a bit louder, not used to speaking above his usual monotone.

 "Back on! That was never part of the plan!" Cordy argued.

 "Just do it!" Angel urged her, not moving from his spot in the room.

 "This sounds an awful lot like improvising, you know how I feel about that!" Cordy yelled.

 "For bloody sake, just do it!" Spike screamed, easily aggravated.

 "Spike? I'm taking orders from Spike now? Oh, I do not think so!" Cordy exclaimed, appalled by the idea. With a collective sigh and eye roll the three in the factory began to make their way out in the dark, moving slowly to avoid tripping over any more of Spike's unconscious lackies. Once they reached the doors it was easy going with the beginning rays of dawn lighting up the sky. Angel and Spike winced and kept to the shadows.

 Cordelia, still at the back of the building was looking over the fusebox she had been assigned to and continued shouting as though the boys were listening, "How exactly am I suppose to 'turn it back on'? Snip the wire, the power's out, okay? I can't unsnip it! Am I supposed to be Martha Stewart or something? And why is Spike … Ah!"

 She screamed and held the wire clippers up as a weapon as a hand fell on her. Oz held up his arms to deflect her wrath, "Easy, we're leaving."

 Cordelia sighed dramatically and held a hand to her chest, "Way to give me a heart attack! What were you doing in there? Where's Doyle?" The last question was asked in such concerned urgency that Oz flinched.

 "He's not here. We've hit a bit of a snag. Angel can explain better I think," Oz replied, hating to see the hope drop from Cordelia's face. She followed him to the car with defeated obedience. When they got back to the car Angel had already manoeuvred Spike into the backseat and was leaning on the hood waiting for them. Cordy ran up to him, her face holding the questions she wanted to ask.

 Angel looked back at Spike briefly, as if warning him to stay put, then led Cordy away to speak with her, leaving Oz to watch over Spike.

 "Okay, here's the situation. Spike doesn't have Doyle," Angel began.

 "But Oz said ...." Cordy didn't finish.

 "Oz was right, he did, but he's not here now. Wolfram and Hart, those evil lawyers I ran into, kidnapped him."

 "He was kidnapped from his kidnapper? Oh my god, could life be more complicated?" Cordelia complained, hating what she was hearing.

 "They want the ring too," Angel finished.

 Cordy couldn't believe this and slapped his arm, "You are such an idiot! I can't believe you destroyed that thing; look how many people are after it! You could have made a fortune on e-bay or something."

 Angel easily stopped her rant before it began, being gentle because he knew she was worried about Doyle too, "Cordelia, we've got a few hours to come up with a new plan and Spike's going to help us. Right now we just have to stay focussed okay, I'm …" it was hard for Angel to admit, "I'm going to need your help"

 She was taken aback by his raw sincerity and finally realized he was as scared as she was, "All right, no problem." 

 Relieved he could count on her Angel turned back to the car and instructed her, "You're in the front. Oz, watch Spike."

 "The dog watching the vamp, what a tangled web we weave ourselves," Spike commented sarcastically from the back.

 "Actually, I don't think we're the ones weaving it," Oz added as he stepped in beside Spike slowly, wary for any sign of deception.

 "If we were it'd be a lot prettier," Cordelia said as she jumped into the passenger side and Angel got behind the wheel. 

 "Life isn't meant to be pretty," Angel finished, speaking from long years of experience. There was silence as they pulled away.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 From the outside, Wolfram and Hart law offices looked like your everyday law firm. A clean, tall building with the latest technologies and highest earning lawyers, a salad bar on the third level and executive bathrooms; no one would ever guess that their clients were the darkest evil the world had ever known and mostly demons. They also wouldn't suspect that there was a level, just below the basement, comprised of cages and cells made of cold concrete with no light shining in. It was in one of these cells that Allan Francis Doyle awoke in. 

 Blinking open his eyes, Doyle was glad it was dark; any light would have made his headache even worse. It was of little help though since his entire body radiated with pain. His back was a mixture of bruises, long slashes that had finally stopped bleeding, and a few small burns from Spike's tazer and cigarettes. The cuts were most likely infected and his ribs had felt broken for some time; now every breath nearly brought tears of pain to his eyes. 

 He was sitting on a cold floor with his wrists once again manacled above him, attached to a short chain on the wall. He could stand if he wanted but felt no urge to do. His skin felt tight all over, like it didn't fit his body and he thought he felt sweat dripping from his forehead, despite the coolness of the room.

 Great, he thought, now I'm running a damn fever. 

 He also had no idea where he was and found his head beginning to hurt not just from his headache, but from trying to follow the crazy path his life had been on lately.

 "Now where the hell am I?" He asked aloud, not expecting an answer. He knew he wouldn't get one but he was bored so started yelling, "Hello! Is there anyone out there? I think there's been some kind of mix up here cause if you people are lawyers you really shouldn't be breaking the law with this whole kidnapping thing! Hello! Someone answer me, dammit!"

 As he shouted the last few words a horrible coughing spell hit him and he keeled over as his body spasmed with the pain each exhalation caused.

 "Oh, not good," Doyle muttered when he could breathe. Then his attention became focussed on the door.

 Footsteps were approaching, several sets of them. They drew nearer and nearer until they reached Doyle's door. There was a whir of electronic locks and then the steel door slid open silently, revealing a light skinned man with an air of confidence so bold it was intimidating. He had short brown hair, wore a loose white shirt with casual blue jeans and a quirky smile that would be associated with a jester. His most defining features though were his eyes; one was bright blue, the other a pure white, but Doyle had a feeling he could see clearly from both. The eyes stood out against his common appearance and reminded the Irishman of the sky on a cloudy day.

 Doyle watched the man closely who didn't seem the least bit interested in the shackled half-demon before him. Eventually Sky met Doyle's gaze and smiled; it felt condescending and cold. Then he pulled a small pouch from his pocket and began to hum under his breath as he came further into the room.

 "Hey there, I'm Doyle. Is this your cell cause it's fabulous. You got your chains, your bed, your door, everything a bloke could ask for, except a view. What can I do for you exactly?" Doyle asked, attempting to somehow charm his way out of the situation. 

 Sky continued to ignore him, he just moved closer, still humming (or was it chanting), and opened up the small pouch he had been carrying. When he was directly in front of Doyle he crouched down and poured the contents of the pouch onto the floor, forming a strange half circle around his body with the dark black powder that was inside. Sky chanted louder.

 "That's a nifty little tune you're humming; don't quite recognize the words though. What's the name of that one?" Doyle asked, insanely desperate to get some information out of this man.

 The humming grew more intense, but Sky's lips were no longer moving. The sound was reverberating through the room on its own. Doyle was getting very frustrated.

 "Hey buddy, talk to me here! What the hell is going on?" Doyle demanded, leaning forward despite the spikes of pain it caused through his spine. "What? Are you deaf or something? Dumb perhaps? Little bit of both?"

 Sky continued on with his work and as the chant reached its crescendo he ran his hand over the dark half-circle. A ray of black energy floated up from the powder and was absorbed by the man's hand, which grew dark with the power. When Sky was finished his whole arm was a dark black. Doyle sat mesmerized, now unable to speak.

 In a flash the spell to seemed to break. The chanting, which had become loud and strong, disappeared, and the black energy that had been building in Sky's arm shimmered then died away. Doyle wondered whether the energy had diffused into his body or simply disappeared. He got his answer when Sky looked up. His eye, which had previously been bright blue, was now a frighteningly dark black, contrasting sharply against the white of his other eye. The condescending smile returned to Sky's face as Doyle flinched from the sight. 

 Then slowly, as if enjoying the moment, Sky ran a finger through the black powder on the floor, drawing a path and darkening his hand with it, as if he had been smudged with coal. Drawing forward, and humming lowly beneath his breath once more, he came towards Doyle.

 "Back off pal, I'm not some science experiment for your little voodoo thing. Stop!" Doyle demanded as Sky held his head in one place with one hand and then drew his blackened finger along Doyle's neck, leaving a dark line in its place. After it was drawn, Sky released him and stopped humming once more. He took a step back as if admiring his handiwork, then made a simple gesture with his arm that caused the powder on the floor to disappear in a puff of smoke.

 "What the hell was the point of that?" Doyle asked, exhausted and confused by the entire ordeal. This whole situation was out of control and getting stranger by the minute. It was bad enough being tortured and kidnapped twice in one day, but add creepy Houdini wannabes and it just made life frustrating.

 Still unmoved by Doyle's pleas and insults Sky continued with his silent observation. Then the man spoke for the first time and the black of his eye dimmed as he said, in a disturbingly low voice, "Metreon."

 As the word was said Doyle's air disappeared. It felt as though a metal collar had been placed around his neck and squeezed too tightly. It was painful and frightening as he found his oxygen supply depleting quickly since he hadn't had time to take in an extra breath. He writhed in tortured agony, pulling at his chains and arching his back as his body responded naturally to the loss of air. It wasn't long before his lungs had constricted as much as possible and dots speckled Doyle's vision.

 Another flick of the wrist and a simple word, "Zegrack," and the invisible collar was gone. Doyle could breathe once more and greedily sucked in a large gulp of air as he slouched against the wall. 

 Satisfied that his work was done, Sky turned and left Doyle panting and confused. The silent door slid open and Sky left the cell once more, never taking a moment to look back.

TBC

Woo hoo, another chapter done. Hope you're all enjoying the fic I'm having a fabulous time writing it. I've got lots of ideas and twists still planned and I thank you all for reading. I'm still taking story suggestions, though I have a pretty firm plotline now I'm always open to new ideas. Hope to hear from you!

Special thanks to my reviewers:

Lunacat – My favorite episode too, and my favorite characters. Hope the fic is shaping up to be all you hoped it would be.

Irish-dancer – There really aren't a lot of Oz fics anywhere! If you know of any good Oz sites I'd love to see 'em. I got a lot of Doyle already.

Reyvin – Good, someone else who bawls during "hero". I hate watching it, cause the whole time you're thinking "he's just going to die at the end of the ep anyway, none of this matters". Least I do anyway. *sigh* I wish he wasn't dead. Anyway, thanks for the review, much appreciated.

Kelso – He definitely gave up the ring too easy, after all the work he did to get it.

Tap Dancing Widow – Thank you. I changed my error, it was Lilah. Don't know how I messed that up. I think I was going with just sounds cause I've never read her name before actually. Haven't seen Underworld yet, I'm waiting for it on DVD

Templa Otmena – I save my evil laughter for my evil cliffhangers. J So happy you liked Doyle's speech, I was debating to keep it in. Yep, lots of Doyle torture in the future. There's Oz and Spike torture too. Not as much Spike, but there's some. Hope you'll be there.

Catlyn 88 – Thank you as well. Where did I get Delilah? I fixed it though. There are lots of twists in this sucker. Enjoy. 

Please R&R everyone. I love you.


	5. The Plan in Action

Oh goody, another chapter!!! Yeah!!! *does a little dance* I hope everyone likes it, we're getting into the good plot, action and H/C bits. These are the easiest chapters to write. I hope you're all enjoying yourselves and if you're a Spike, Oz or Doyle fan you've come to the right place. I better get on with it then. 

**To Catch a Thief by Robinyj**

From the outside the plain black convertible driving down the I95 looked like any other car. Inside was a group of generally normal people, in appearance anyway. No one driving by would have ever guessed that inside was the most mismatched group of people currently in LA (two vampires, one soulled, one not, a werewolf, and a bad actress, worse secretary), all they would know was that the driver was in a hurry and they should get out of his way.

 In the back of Angel's car no one minded the high speeds; they knew they were running out of time. They had only three hours to come up with a plan and make their meeting with Wolfram and Hart.

 Oz looked out the window, usual stoic expression on his face, then he turned and asked, "Hey, I don't know these guys very well so I wouldn't really know, but does anyone else think meeting in a parking lot is a little unusual?"

 "And creepy?" Cordy added.

 Angel replied without turning his gaze from the road, "They knew I wouldn't meet them on their own turf so they had to pick a place that was neutral territory. Parking lots are a good example. Also it's underground, which is good news for me considering the sun's coming up."

 "Wouldn't want the vamp with the goods to go poof before he got there, I suppose," Spike summed up in the back. 

 "Something like that," Angel agreed.

 "What's the big deal about this fellow that we're trying to save, anyway that you're doing all this to get him back?" Spike enquired, "He owe you money or something? I know he's not a member of your little Scooby lot, so what is he?"

 "He's a friend Spike, that's all you need to know," Angel told him, obviously not too keen on the conversation.

 "Just seems a bit risky is all," Spike continued, unphased, "Putting your lives in danger, giving up your ring, not that I mind that part, but it's a lot of work. We could all go clubbing instead, have ourselves a right fine time."

 "Don't you care about anyone other than yourself?" Cordy asked, infuriated.

 Spike pretended to think about it," No, not really, no. You've got to enjoy the time you have kiddies, especially if you're not fortunate enough to be undead like myself. Cause if you don't live this life as if every moment was your last then it passes you by, and if you don't enjoy it, you may as well be dead. It's life or death, that's all it is."

 "Yeah, well sometimes you have to stop and face reality, that's life, so deal with it! And shut up!" Cordy exclaimed.

 "Bit touchy isn't she?" Spike whispered to Oz. 

 The lycanthrope had no sympathy in his gaze, "I'm with her. I'd shut up." Surprisingly, he did so, finding no fun in the conversation.

 A few minutes later Oz looked out his window and realized he didn't recognize the scenery, "Hey Angel, is this the way back to your place?"

 Cordy noticed as well, "Wait, this is totally the wrong direction."

 "We're not going back to my place," Angel told them. Both waited for some elaboration before they remembered who they were talking to.

 "And just where are we taking this mismatched pack of ours then?" Spike asked.

 "'Tony's Garage'," Angel replied, "Oz, when did they say your van would be ready?"

 "Early this morning."

 "For their sakes, you better hope they're done."

 Oz just braced himself as Angel made an impossible turn off the highway.

 "Yeah, I do."

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 Karen hated her job. Despite having lots of free time and never taking her work home, being a parking attendant had to be the most boring experience of her entire life. She was a young girl, with prospects, and handing out parking stubs on Wellington was not what she had deemed for her future. Not that she didn't see some exciting stuff every now and then; crazy cars and crazy drivers, but in LA that didn't mean very much. This was the craziest place on Earth probably, so not much phased her anymore.

 It was for this reason that she didn't even flinch when a zebra striped van pulled into the parking lot, its blond headed driver casually taking a stub from her and then driving in towards the very back wall.

  "Not bad on the cute scale," Karen thought to herself as she watched him disappear around the corner of the lot. She heard the van stop and the doors open, and then close. She was pretty sure the young man had been alone so was surprised when muted voices drifted to her from the lot since he had been the only one to pull in, in the last few minutes. Eventually the voices ceased and the blond driver walked by her again, alone as she had thought.

 "Maybe there's someone else in there." She thought as she smiled and waved to the young man again as left.

 Oz returned both gestures half-heartedly as he left the building and prayed that Spike would do as he had been told and stay in the van for the next hour; he didn't think he could forgive himself if the young lady at the toll booth, or anyone else, got hurt because of them and their risky plan. But they had to try; the least they could do was try. They knew Wolfram & Hart wasn't about to play by the rules, which meant they couldn't either.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

Doyle was bored. It had been almost three hours since his visit from Sky and though he wasn't eager to meet him again he did wish for some company or entertainment. He had tried singing '100 bottles of beer on the wall', but the song made him long for a drink and he had stopped with around 78 bottles to go. He counted the bricks on the wall, and found he didn't care enough to finish. Now he sat, rattling the chains above him and doing anything not to think about the hot flames of pain scorching down his back. His thoughts eventually drifted to his friends. He thought about how beautiful Cordy undoubtedly looked today and wished he had the nerve to ask her out. He wondered how Angel was taking his disappearance, and how they were all going to escape with their lives since they no longer had the Ring of Amara. He worried about Oz; Spike hadn't gone into details about it, but he knew the musician had been hurt earlier at his home, he just didn't know how badly.

 Overall the entire situation, entire day, had sucked horribly and he just hoped it all was over soon. He wanted to see Cordelia again and have a few shots of scotch and then sleep. Sleeping was definitely high on his list as well. He might even have a go at it right now. Tilting his head back, he leaned against the cold wall and closed his eyes, finding the cool stone actually soothed the flaming pain in his back. 

 No sooner had his body relaxed into the beginnings of sleep, than the sound of footsteps re-appeared in the corridor. Cracking open an eye, Doyle watched with a sinking heart as the door to his cell was opened once more, revealing two of the members of Doyle's "hope you get your ass kicked" club. 

 Lilah smiled at him in her usual self-centered way, and beside her, looking slightly more stoic, was Sky, who had changed into an overdramatic flowing black robe with a hood that he kept down. 

 "You did your casting already?" Lilah asked Sky as a guard entered the cell and began to unchain Doyle's arms.

 Sky simply nodded, saying nothing. He was good at that.

 "Good, we can get going then," Lilah commented. 

 In the cell the guard finished unchaining the Irishman and then backed away. Doyle sat silently, rubbing his wrists.

 "Mr. Doyle, I assume you don't want to keep your friends waiting, so if you'd just follow me," Lilah signalled for him to get up and follow her out.

 Doyle raised an eyebrow, suspicious and defiant to the last, "Yes, follow you willingly, I'll get right on that." Doyle remarked sarcastically as he struggled to his feet. He was determined to remain at eye level with these people and would not give them the chance to look down on him. 

 "I understand. You don't trust me of course." Lilah didn't seem surprised.

 "No farther than a vamp can walk in sunlight," Doyle replied vehemently.

 "Well I really don't care cause you're coming either way," Lilah said confidently with a quick look towards the guard still in the cell. Doyle acted fast, knowing he only had one shot. He changed into demon form, not only for strength but for shock value. It worked. The guard was off balance long enough for Doyle to strike him hard across the face. He fell into the wall and the brachen demon reached out and took the pistol from the guard's belt and then struck him across the face with it, knocking him out completely.

 Spinning quickly and panting hard from the exertion that small move had taken, Doyle faced Lilah and Sky, weapon drawn.

 "Alright, my rules now. First off all you're going to show me how to get the 'ell out of here," Doyle explained as he regained his breath.

 Lilah and Sky did not move. Did not, in fact seemed the least bit phased by the weapon pointed at them. Doyle noticed this and wondered if the gun was loaded. He knew by the weight that it was, so why were they smiling.

 "I mean it, now get going Bambi, and don't you try anything either you witch doctor from hell," Doyle continued, expecting them to move. 

 Lilah straightened out and pushed off the doorframe she had been leaning on, "You heard him." She said to Sky pointedly.

 Sky grinned at Doyle, then waved his hand subtly and muttered, "Metreon."

  Suddenly the gun dropped from Doyle's hand as the collar returned to his neck. He gasped for air but none was forthcoming. Clawing desperately, his hands found nothing around his throat to try and pull away; it was as though his windpipe was being crushed by some invisible force. The line of ash Sky had traced over his neck earlier glowed black, marking the boundary of the spell. Doyle fell forward onto his knees, clutching at the stone floor as he struggled for air. 

 Lilah moved into the room, picked up the gun, then nodded to Sky once more. A muttered word later Doyle could breathe again and lay sprawled on the floor, pulling in delicious oxygen.

 Lilah rolled her eyes impatiently and motioned toward the hallway, "If you're quite finished …"

 Doyle nodded in resignation, knowing he had no choice at the moment, "Yeah, I'm coming. Point's been made and all."

 Still coughing, he slowly pulled himself up, first to his elbows, then knees, and then, with the wall for support, to his feet. With a final deep breath he pushed off the wall and found his legs still worked marginally. He followed Lilah into the corridor with slow, painstaking steps and heard the door slide shut behind him. Sky and the guard, shaking off Doyle's attack, followed closely behind and Doyle turned to see a satisfied smirk on Sky's face as they walked. They continued on down the hallway until they reached a set of elevators. As they went up it was obvious they had been underground. They stopped at the ground level and as the group exited Doyle found himself in an office building, filled with businessmen (lawyers?) in fancy suits. Not a single one shot them a second glance, despite the awkward appearance of the group. 

 When they exited the elevator a half dozen guards joined them, an escort and protection in one. A rather large man with sunglasses took Doyle's arm in a firm grip, despite his compliance so far.

 "Hey, no need to get all touchy feely, I'm coming," Doyle complained, but the grip was just tightened and he was hurried out the front doors of the building. There was a large limousine waiting there which Lilah got in along with Sky. Blinking from the sudden push into the sunlight, Doyle was shoved in by his new escort and landed roughly on the posh leather, flinching as his back hit and the cuts and bruises demanded attention.

 "Do try to avoid getting blood on the seats, leather's a bitch to clean up," Lilah requested. Doyle was in a good enough mood to flip her off. Though the action had been made in defiance, he was thankful when she chose to ignore it. She leaned back and tapped on the driver's glass and then they were off. To where, Doyle had no idea but he hoped Angel would be there, in a good way, a rescuing way.

 As they pulled around the corner Doyle couldn't help the chill that struck him as he wondered what was to come next on the wild ride he was on.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 Spike was bored. He was usually good at waiting; he could sit for hours enjoying the anticipation of one of his plans coming to fruition. The rewards were usually worth it; couple of good meals, some torture, on a good night the blood of a Slayer. But there was no real reward waiting for him with this plan. The ring of Amara sure, but that was only if the plan worked. He didn't care about the whelp himself; hell, he'd tortured him for fun earlier that day. But here he was, in the back of a van waiting for his opportunity to spring out and save the day like the hero he was: not! He was here for the ring; that was it. If that meant helping Angel out, so be it. He could always stake him later. He had already been waiting for an hour and a half and now moved himself to the front seat to check out Oz's music selection. It wasn't half bad.

 "Oy, I love this track," Spike said and popped it into the portable stereo in the back. Tapping his foot to the music he sang along, off key and enjoying himself. He forgot about where he was for the moment as he got lost in the lyrics and got into the beat. When the song was over it switched to something more mellow and soft. Spike hummed along and sank deeper into the front seat. Without realizing it, his eyelids began to shut and his head tipped to the side. He was asleep in minutes.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 Cordelia, Angel and Oz arrived twenty minutes early for their meeting, not wanting Doyle to have to wait for rescue any longer than he had to in case Wolfram & Hart arrived early. Karen waved as they drove in, recognizing the cute blond even though he was now driving a black convertible. Angel was crouched in the back, covered up as casually as possibly and ducking to avoid the sunlight coming in through the windows. As soon as they were past the toll booth the sun disappeared from view anyway.

 Oz pulled the car in and moved to park it a few spaces away from his own van which Spike was still in, if he was following the plan. They had to hope he was because they couldn't afford to check on him in case Wolfram and Hart had people watching them.

 "You see anyone?" Cordy asked beside him as she scanned the parking lot.

 "When they're here we'll know. These guys like to make their presence known," Angel replied from the back. Oz parked the car. No one moved as the engine died down and they all were quickly lost in their own deep thoughts.

 "I think this is where we all get out," Cordelia announced after a moment. This knocked Oz and Angel out of their thoughts and they moved to comply.

 They got out and leaned against the back of Angel's car. Several lanes away they could see Oz's van.

 "He better be ready," Angel muttered, pacing the ground nervously, unaware that Spike was actually sound asleep.

 "Angel," Oz directed his attention to the entrance. Two long black limousines were pulling in.

 "Alright, this is it," Angel said and everyone stood up straighter as the cars stopped in front of them. They used no parking spots; instead they blocked the exit with their vehicles. Long seconds passed. It was impossible to see into the dark cars due to their blacked out windows and they were parked far enough away that any open assault from them would take several seconds; seconds that could easily be used to kill Doyle if they tried anything. After what seemed an eternity the driver of the first limousine got out and formally walked to the passenger door. With the stiffness of someone who's paid to look proper he opened the door and Lilah stepped out, smiling widely. From the second limousine large men dressed in black poured out, all armed with crosses and stakes.

 Behind Lilah stepped out Sky, silent as usual. After him came another guard, the biggest yet. He had hold of someone's wrist, which he tugged as soon as he was standing. Doyle toppled from the vehicle and was quickly hauled to his feet by the large man. His wrist and arm were twisted roughly behind his back and he was forced to move forward, next to Lilah.

 "Oh god, Doyle," Cordy whispered. He looked bad, something that disturbed all of them. His chest and face were riddled with bruises and cuts, most looked quite painful and there were small burn marks all along his chest. His pants were stained with blood and they could only briefly glimpse the fiery wounds along his back when he was hauled from the ground. As he was pushed forward by the guard Cordy wanted to call out to him but restrained herself, Angel's brow furrowed in anger and Oz's expression remained stoic, but his eyes were sharp and alert, ready to take action.

 "The infamous Angel. It's a pleasure," Lilah beamed confidently, "I only wish it could be under better circumstances." Doyle looked up when he heard Angel's name, hope blazing in his eyes and a smile creeping to his lips at the sight of his friends.

 "At least they're safe," Doyle thought, then looked at the armed guards around him and wondered for how long.

 "The pleasure's all yours," Angel replied and then turned his attention to Doyle, and, as if meeting casually on the street, asked, "How you doing Doyle?" But the question held much more meaning than it seemed.

 Doyle stuck with the casual response, happy to play along. "Not great. I think the Lakers are going to win the finals this weekend and I had my money on the Bulls, so I been better. Not as though I'm a stranger to losing money on a bet though."

 Angel smiled and nodded, as if understanding completely. 

 "You?" Doyle asked, continuing the long distance conversation.

 "Oh, day's been kind of slow. Did my laundry, got a ring that makes me immortal, same old same old." Angel shrugged.

 "And we made waffles," Oz added from the side, realizing how unnerving the casual banter was to the lawyers.

 "Damn, I missed waffles," Doyle complained and then grunted as the guard holding him decided enough was enough and wrenched his arm further behind his back.

 "Really, that was quite cute, but this isn't a social call," Lilah reminded them. "I assume you brought the ring?"

 Angel held up the hand adorned with the fake ring, "It's right where it's supposed to be."

 "Even so, it will be in my hands very shortly; if you want him to live of course," Lilah smirked as she indicated Doyle.

 "Well the way I see it, you really don't have much of a position here. I'm immortal," Angel chuckled as if he was on the greatest power trip of all time, "What can you do to me? Nothing." He took a step forward, "So there's really nothing to keep me from coming over there and killing you all."

 When he took another step forward, Lilah, looking only slightly less confident, turned to Sky and nodded. Sky grinned and muttered beneath his breath, then cast his arm wide in front of him, a small tendril of sparks leaving the ends of his fingertips.

 Angel rushed forward in an attempt to outrun the magick but didn't make it in time. The spell was cast and he stopped dead in his tracks. Oz and Cordy ran forward as well, unsure what was wrong.

 "What the heck is this? Cellophane?" Cordy asked. They had run into the same thing as Angel. There was a wall, clear and strong but not hard, between themselves and Wolfram and Hart. They could see and hear through it, but they could not pass it.

 "This may put a damper on negotiations," Angel commented, slamming a fist into the barrier.

 "That's your problem right there Angel; there are no negotiations. It's the ring or your friend's life. If you really don't care about him then we can kill him right now and be on our way," Lilah commented, safely on the other side of the invisible wall.

 Angel looked unsure for a moment, knowing _they_ thought he would be unwilling to part with the ring, then nodded slowly, "Alright. But let him go first."

 "You still seem to think you're in charge here," Lilah tsked, but looked at Sky again. At his command the wall fell away, but Angel, Oz and Cordelia made no attempt to move forward. She then turned to the guard and Doyle's arm was abruptly released, causing him to stagger forward. He took a moment to balance himself, then, turning warily toward his kidnappers;

 "Not that it hasn't been fun, but I hope I never see you again," then he slowly backed away, towards his friends.

 "Now, the ring," Lilah ordered.

 Angel smirked, still playing his part of the cocky vampire, "Naw, I think I'll keep it."

 From the angry look that lit up Lilah's eyes and the subtle movement of Sky's arm, Doyle knew what was going to happen next, "No, wait!" he pleaded, but it was too late. The collar returned, relentless as before.

 Angel, Oz and Cordy watched in horror as Doyle dropped to his knees only a few feet in front of them. Cordy ran forward and tried to catch him.

 "Doyle, what's wrong? Doyle answer me you idiot!" Cordelia pleaded as she pulled him up a little. It was then she saw the black ash line across his neck that was obviously cutting off his air supply. Doyle's eyes were panicked as he tried unsuccessfully to breathe.

 Angel turned back to Lilah and started towards her again, "Stop it! Leave him alone!" Angel ordered, his voice full of concern, knowing he could do little against magick.

 "The ring," Lilah demanded again and it was the easiest thing in the world for Angel to tear the thing off his finger and hurl it across the parking lot. A guard at Lilah's side caught it and held it out to her. She looked it over.

 Meanwhile, Doyle was still collapsed in pain, Oz and Cordy at his side.

 "He's turning blue," Oz said, his tone as panicked as it ever got.

 "What's wrong with him?" Cordy asked, feeling scared and useless as she held him in her arms, attempting to soothe him somehow.

 Oz looked over at Wolfram and Hart, "It's that guy, the one in the robe. He's a warlock or something."

 "Well, can we un-warlock him?"

 Oz shrugged. They could try, he supposed.

 Lilah finished looking over the ring, satisfied. A pointed look to Sky and he waved his hand again. In that instant Doyle collapsed bonelessly as the collar faded away and he was finally able to breathe. Oz and Cordelia easily caught him and lowered him to his side. The werewolf shrugged off his coat and laid it over the half-demon's bare back, knowing how cold the concrete was. With the spell broken Doyle was able to breathe and began to drift in a semiconscious state; a mixture of blood loss, oxygen deprivation and physical injuries having exhausted him. Angel turned to his friends, ensuring the magick had been stopped. Oz looked up when it was clear Doyle was breathing and gave Angel a thumbs up. The vampire nodded, relieved, and then turned to Lilah.

 "You got what you wanted. I suggest you leave," Angel said, making it obvious it was more than a suggestion.

 "Oh, I'm going, I have what I came for," Lilah smirked while moving to get into her limousine with the assistance of the large guard that had been restraining Doyle, "Get rid of them." She whispered.

 The large man seemed all too pleased to oblige and motioned for the other black suits to join him. There were eight of them, armed with stakes, crosses and what looked like guns, but seemed too big. They were all confident as hell as they stalked toward Angel, who stood in front of his friends protectively.

 Having heard Lilah, Angel threw his hands into the air and almost shouted, "Well, looks like the fun's about to begin." The guards stopped, waiting for him to make the first move. Angel stopped, waiting for Spike to respond to the signal.

 "I said," he repeated, louder, "looks like the fun's about to begin!"

 Still nothing. Angel sighed, "I should have known."

 It was obvious that they had had a plan that wasn't working, which didn't please Lilah, "Kill them!" she ordered again then slammed the door shut on her limousine.

 "I think we're on our own," Oz commented as he rose to stand beside Angel, leaving Cordelia to care for the almost unconscious Doyle.

 "You up for it?" Angel asked.

 "Always," Oz replied confidently, then spotted Sky standing behind the guards; he seemed to be muttering to himself. "I got spell boy."

 "You sure?" Angel asked again as he moved into a defensive stance as the guards closed in.

 "Positive," Oz replied, then charged forward.

**TBC**

Oh, what's going to happen? I bet I know, do you? Lots of Oz H/C next chapter, hope you'll be there and please review, I love to know what people like and dislike, its helps bunches while writing.

Special thanks to the following reviewers:

Irish dancer – it may just be that I'm new to Doyle fics so everything I find is new to me. I'll probably run out of stories after a few late Saturday nights. Thanks so much for the link though.

Kelso – God no! I would never kill a character, unless it was one of my original ones, cause, let's face it, no one cares about them. I actually don't mind watching episodes where characters die I just have to be in the mood for them. For example, The Gift is written so beautifully that I just have to cry at the end, it's a wonderful ending, that isn't really an ending at all.

Reyvin – Not much Spike in this chappy, sorry. He's in the next one though, he does wake up. J 

Caytlyn88 – Uh oh, you were shuddering at the Doyle H/C in chapter 4? This chapter may take you over the edge then, I hope not though. I'm addicted to H/C so I have to add it everywhere I can.

Lunacat – I liked that line as well. Thanks for your reviews.

Templa Otmena – oh man, you should read the cliffie I got planned for next chapter, you're going to HATE me! But I'm not going to ruin the surprise so don't even try to get the details out of me. Big Oz torture next chapter too, don't miss it.

Tap Dancing Widow – Yeah, I already knew all that. Thanks for reviewing though, I always like hearing from you.

Please review, I love hearing what I'm doing right or wrong, I'm somewhat insecure. Hope you enjoyed! Robinyj


	6. The Rundown

You know when I started this I said it was going to be a nice little short story about Doyle getting kidnapped. And look what happened! I ended up getting a plot and sub-plots and all kinds of complicating things! Oh well, the best laid plans as they say. Thanks for the mega good reviews and these characters don't belong to me. Here's the next chappie.

**To Catch a Thief by Robinyj**

 "Here we are now, entertain us.

   Here we are now….

    Here we are now ….

     Here we are now …."

 "No, don't frost the pie. Don't kill the baker, he makes such sweet rolls. Yeah, I'm bloody sure," Spike mumbled in his sleep, turning to cuddle further into the seat. The tape had reached its end but the vampire still slept soundly, oblivious to what was going on outside. He was suddenly awakened when he attempted to shift his feet to a more comfortable position and found there was nowhere for them to go in the cramped van. He looked around for a moment, unsure where he was. Then he remembered.

 "Angel, that sodding git," he stretched, "Wonder when he's showing up anyway." Moving into the back of the van Spike looked through the back windows and saw two limousines parked directly in front of him. He could clearly see the backs of a few guys in fancy suits and when he crouched down low he thought he saw the bottom of Angel's shoes.

 "Looks like the fun's about to begin!" he heard Angel shout, for what didn't seem the first time.

 "Hmm, think I'm late." Spike decided as he moved back to the front seat and pushed the keys into the ignition.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

 Angel's gaze flicked over his opponents, working the odds in his head. Humans. That made it easier. They were armed though and probably trained. Six were heading in his direction, while two went after Oz, knowing the werewolf was less of a threat. Oz wasn't trained in any way but had been fighting evil for awhile and hopefully could take care of himself. 

 When none of the men came closer Angel smirked and baited them on, "Come on, my bite's worse than my bark."

 This spurred them on. Two men came forward at once, one with a stake, another a cross. Angel easily kicked the cross from the first guard's hand and then straight-punched the second with the stake. As the two men fell he saw another one behind them aiming a funny looking gun. Bullets couldn't kill Angel but he still moved out of the way when he fired. Surprisingly it wasn't a bullet that left the barrel, but what looked like an electrified dart; probably not good. 

 "You fellows on a budget or something? Can't afford bullets?" Angel taunted. The ones he had knocked down got back up and were joined by their comrades. They were poised to attack but then they all stopped dead at the sound of metal crunching and a woman screaming.

 Spike grinned and lit himself a cigarette. 

 "Fun's going to begin all right," he muttered as he gunned the van into reverse. He didn't go far before the vehicle slammed into the side of one of the limousines, crushing it nicely. 

 Lilah screamed inside of the car and braced herself against the door as the metal frame around her caved in. After a few moments, when nothing else happened she opened the door, with a little effort, and escaped the ruined vehicle. She fell to the ground in a heap, clutching what she thought was the ring of Amara and desperate to escape whatever had attacked her. 

 Spike took a long drag off his smoke and jumped out of the van. He swaggered to the back and leaped onto the limousine roof in one jump, duster billowing behind him. All eyes were on him, good guy and bad alike. He stomped out his cigarette and moved gracefully off the car. 

 "I'm glad that everyone's here 'cause now the real party's going to start, 'cause guessed who just showed up? It's the Big Baaaahhhh!!!" Spike shouted in pain as his introduction was interrupted by a stun bolt to the chest, courtesy of Lilah's personal guard. The electric shock raced through his body and he slammed into the side of the car then slumped to the ground.

 Angel rolled his eyes and thought, "At least he showed up." Then he took advantage of the situation. While all eyes were on Spike, he moved faster than the men circling him could turn around. He double punched a black suit in the face twice, easily knocking him out, then sidestepped a series of kicks from a second guard who was moving to help his co-worker. With complete nonchalance Angel kicked the man below the belt, then, when he was bent over, delivered an upper cut that finished the job.

 Oz had taken advantage of Spike's distraction as well. When the van crashed into the limousine his first thought had been, "I just got the paint right too" but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Stepping forward he slammed a guard across the face with a forearm and then, while he was off balance, threw the man into a concrete pillar, knocking him out. Then Oz was suddenly launched forward as the second man tackled him from behind while his back was turned. The two hit the ground hard and Oz had the wind knocked out of him but still began struggling. The man who had taken him down was wiry but muscular and pulled himself up onto his knees after they hit the ground. Oz rolled over and tried to throw a punch but the guard blocked it and struck the werewolf hard across the face. He was stunned for a moment and continued the fight on instinct. Reaching out, his hands grasped his attacker's forearms and they rolled on the ground, each fighting to gain the upper hand. They continued to roll, neither one gaining the advantage until the guard landed on top once more and effectively pinned Oz to the ground with his bodyweight. 

 Oz continued to struggle and knew desperate measures would have to be taken soon or he was finished. 

 "Do you know what I am?" He asked breathlessly.

 The black suit smirked, "Werewolf. You're powerless during the day."

 "Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into," Oz replied, a deep sadness in his eyes. This took the guard by surprise and when he slacked off his grip slightly the musician leaned forward and bit him hard on the arm, drawing blood. The man yelped in surprise and rolled off him. Then he stood, staring at his arm and it was clear he understood what had just been done to him.

 Oz stood up and spit out blood, disgusted again by what he was, "Sorry. Full moon is in six nights, don't miss it." Then he reached down, picked up a stun gun and shot the shocked man before he could reply.

 "Oh Doyle. Come on, you have to work with me here. Open your eyes; do something!" Cordelia pleaded but Doyle still did not respond. His body was just too drained. As soon as he had fallen into the safe hands of his friends, he had shut down, mentally and physically and did not appear to wish to awaken. But Cordelia wished he would wake up. Wished it badly, because there was a lot of fighting going on around them and she really didn't think they were in a good spot.

 "Doyle open your eyes, help me, okay? We have to move and I can't carry you, and I don't want to hurt you any more than you are and ah!" Cordelia jumped in surprise as an unconscious guard was thrown into the wall next to them. She knew it had been done by Angel, but when she turned she saw that the vampire still had his hands full, fighting back nearly half a dozen men. 

 "Okay, gotta get a weapon, gotta move," Cordy whispered as she patted Doyle's shoulder awkwardly, assuring him she'd be back, then crawled towards the unconscious stranger beside her. When she was next to him she looked him over, he didn't appear to be moving, and then patted him down, but there were no weapons to be found. 

 "Damn," she thought, then looked down and saw one of their gun things lying next to him. She smiled and crawled over the man then picked up the gun slowly, looking it over as she did so and wondering how it worked. Footsteps behind her reminded her of the fight still going on and she turned around in time to see a wide shouldered henchman leave the pack of Angel's adversaries and head towards Doyle. 

 "No! Hold it!" Cordelia called out, but the man ignored her, his intentions clear as he lowered his own weapon towards the helpless Doyle. Fumbling, but moving fast, Cordelia brought up the gun she now held and rapidly fired off two shots. The first went wide but the second hit the man squarely on the left shoulder. He jerked in surprise and then fell unconscious to the floor. 

 The force of the gun knocked Cordy on her behind, but she quickly recovered and scrambled back over to Doyle.

 "Or we could just stay here, you know." She stroked his hair self-consciously and his eyes began to flicker open. 

 "Princess?"

 Lilah scrambled to her feet, scared for the first time. There was fighting going on all around her and she had lost her mode of transportation. She looked to the exit and considered running, but it seemed so undignified and impossible in the heels and skirt she had on. Suddenly a hand appeared in her vision and she thankfully took it. Sky lifted her up and she regained her cool demeanour after seeing the calm look on his face. 

 "Can you take care of this?" She asked, indicating her group of troubles. Spike was unconscious, Angel was wiping the floor with her guards, the werewolf had taken out a few men, and Cordy and Doyle were still crouched on the hard pavement. Sky looked over the situation and then nodded confidently. 

 "Good," Lilah said, then held up the ring Angel had given her, "Because I have to get this back to my boss. Do whatever you have to." She ordered. Sky smiled and turned from her, already muttering incantations under his breath. Finally calm and thinking clearly Lilah made her way to the second, undamaged, limousine they had brought and got in.

 "Are we leaving Ms. Morgan?" the driver asked when she was settled. Lilah looked out the window and saw the crashed van and limo blocking off most of the exit. It would have been possible to get out, but risky.

 "No, let's stick around for a minute, see how things turn out. We're safe enough in here." Then again, that was what she had thought about the last limo.

 "Doyle. You're alive. You're awake. You're … looking very icky," Cordy exclaimed.

 "You know I really missed these deep, meaningful talks of ours," Doyle quipped as he tried to raise his head to see the fight that he could hear happening, "What's going on?

 "Wolfram & Hart are jerks and are trying to kill us. Angel and Oz are handling it though, I think," Cordy assured him. She turned and saw Oz bite one of the guards to get free from him and decided Doyle really didn't need to be bothered with this right now so moved into his line of vision to block his view of the fight.

 "Can you get up?" She asked softly. Doyle, despite his massive headache that made it hurt to think, was genuinely touched by the sincerity and concern in her voice.

 "Think so," he said, admittedly trying to act tough in front of her despite feeling like shit. He made it halfway into a sitting position before a paralyzing flash of pain ricocheted through his spine. He changed his mind, "I don't think so."

 It was clear Cordy didn't know what to do but still wanted to be of some help, "Oh, okay then. Well, just lie back down and we'll wait for Angel to take care of everything. Then … then … we'll get you fixed up and everything will be great. It'll be just great, like Frosted Flakes great."

 Doyle lowered himself back down, enjoying hearing Cordy rant, then his attention was drawn across they room, "Hey, is that Spike?"

 Cordy looked too, "Oh yeah, he's part of the plan. Angel's tricked him, it's all good."

 He gave her a clearly confused glance and was about to ask more when the parking lot was suddenly filled with an ear piercing scream of pain from across the room.

 Sky looked over the scene before him and tried to decide which nuisance to take care of first. The werewolf, the vampire, or the helpless by-standers? Even though he knew he should probably take care of Angel first, his eyes set on Doyle and Cordelia. He had already had a lot of fun with the brachen demon after all, and he wanted to play with it some more. 

 Focussing completely on the couple across the lot, he brought up his hands and drew several ancient symbols in the air while he chanted and black magic gathered at his fingertips, "Neterof gondamet zintoth. Neterof gondamet zintoth. Neterof gond….Uh!" 

 Before he finished the spell he felt the wind knocked out of him as he was forced roughly onto the cold concrete. At the same moment another body fell on top of him, crushing his ribcage even more. Seconds later, when his eyes could focus he looked up to see the person who had tackled him as they got back to their feet. He gritted his teeth in anger: the werewolf.

 "Don't you know you're not supposed to kick people while they're down?" Oz asked, then delivered a kick to the warlock's ribs. "Of course, there are exceptions."

 Oz pulled back his foot again, aiming his next kick for the warlock's head, knowing if he was unconscious his magicks were useless, but the blow never landed. 

 Rolling swiftly out of the way, Oz learned too late that the sorcerer was faster than the average human and had an easily excited temper. After he moved out of the way Sky turned to glare at the werewolf and in that instant his pure blue eye became an encompassing black as his fury rose. His body resonating with black energy Sky brought up his hands and snarled a single word as Oz moved to attack him once more.

 "Kartoth." 

 A spark of black energy erupted from Sky's pointed fingertip and flew directly towards Oz's face. An inhuman howl of pain erupted from him as he fell to the ground, hands clutching his burning eyes. 

Angel dived, twisted, kicked and punched, not at all happy with the way the fight was going. He was winning of course, these humans were no match for him, but the going was slow. It was hard to simultaneously avoid so many stakes, crosses and stun guns as these men had and he found himself having to become creative with his fighting, by purposely causing one guard to shoot another for example. 

 Out of his peripheral vision he had seen Cordelia take out one of Wolfram and Hart's henchmen to protect Doyle and, not that she hadn't done a great job, he had then backed up to protect them better. Spike had proven to be no help at all, except to provide a distraction, and Oz was holding his own across the parking lot. At least he had thought he was. Suddenly Angel wasn't so sure when he heard a blood-curdling scream of pain echo through the building. He turned to Doyle and Cordy first, worried another henchman had reached them without him noticing, but then he saw both their concerned gazes focussed across the room. Doyle even attempted to stand but Cordelia held him down easily.

 Angel turned, roughly back-fisting a crony as he did so, and saw Oz on his knees, clearly in horrible pain. The warlock stood over him, looking far too satisfied. Switching into vamp face, Angel spun once with a huge roundhouse kick and knocked out his last two attackers and then sprinted hard across the parking lot. When he saw a cloud of dark power spiral around Sky's fingers once more, he wondered if he would be in time to help Oz, or if he would lose another precious friend.

 Sky rose completely to his feet, enjoying the sight of the musician writhing in pain. Oz howled again, this time more guttural than before. He felt as though his eyes had been burned from their sockets, the pain was so intense. His palms were pushed hard against his face and somewhere in his calm center that he couldn't seem to find, he knew that his eyes were still there and intact because he felt no blood on his cheeks or hands. It had to have been an illusion or some sort of psychic suggestion. But for now, in his decidedly uncalm state, he could only scream and shudder, for the agony was all too real.

 The warlock brushed dust off his robe and watched Oz, amused. He would have liked to torment him some more, cause some truly permanent damage, but he had other matters to attend to. With an unnecessary flourish, Sky twirled his finger and a swirl of black energy appeared, prepared to finish off the lycanthrope. He needed only to say the words. 

 But the words would not come. Behind him, impossibly fast hands reached out, took hold of his head and snapped his neck in one fluid motion.

 Angel threw away the lifeless form of the warlock without a second thought, knowing he was dead and glad. Oz remained on the ground, still groaning with his hands pressed against face; unfortunately, the effects of Sky's magick had not dissipated along with his life-force. Angel looked around him, saw all of Wolfram and Hart's lackies were dead or unconscious, and then knelt down beside Oz, but he was unsure how close to get to him. It was obvious the blond musician was lost in the pain, totally unaware of his surroundings, and Angel didn't want to frighten him further.

 "Oz, what's wrong? Can you talk to me?" Angel asked, still a reasonable distance away, but close enough to touch him if he reached out. Oz moaned again, rolled onto his knees and dropped his forehead down against the cold concrete. One hand crept up to run through his hand but the other remained clenched tightly over his eyes. 

 "Oh god."

 It was whispered so softly that Angel almost missed it, but the simple statement at least meant Oz was cognitive enough to speak a little. He immediately pushed himself forward and rested, what he hoped, to be a comforting hand on the werewolf's shoulder. 

 "All right, take your time. You'll be okay, just breathe," Angel muttered, unaccustomed to the role forced upon him. He didn't do comfort well. Beneath his hand he could feel Oz's body trembling from pain and shock. His breath was coming in, in ragged, deep gasps as he tried to wait out the pain, but it was lasting an eternity. Without warning the hand that he had been running through his hair reached out and latched onto Angel's upper arm like a lifeline and an anguished sob tore from Oz's throat. Angel knew that Oz wasn't one for making a scene, which meant that he must be in horrible pain to be acting like this.

 "It's okay, I'm here. Just hold on, okay?" Angel requested, but there was nothing else he could do to help him. He looked behind him and cursed himself for having killed the warlock so quickly, not thinking that they may need him to undo whatever he had done, because it didn't seem to be wearing off. Across the lot of motionless guards he could see Cordelia helping Doyle, who was now conscious, into a sitting position. They were already fighting, typical. Over all things could have gone worse, Doyle was safe anyway, he figured, but looking down at Oz he knew they could have gone better too.

 Just then the hand gripping his arm relaxed a little. Oz slowly pushed himself up on one arm, the other was covering his face. His breathing was still harsh and uneven, but the moaning had stopped. Angel could only hope that whatever the sorcerer had done, it was wearing off. 

 "Oz, can you talk to me?" Angel asked, speaking in the respectful hushed tones that one used when someone was hurt.

 After several more deep breaths Oz replied, through gritted teeth, "Yeah."

 "You going to be okay?" It sounded like a stupid question, even to him, but he could think of nothing else to ask.

 "Don't know. Really hurts," Oz admitted weakly then dropped his head back down to the ground as if exhausted from the few simple words. "Just give me a minute."

 "Take your time." Angel could wait. After all Oz had done to help them, Angel could definitely wait.

 Another moan suddenly drew Angel's attention and he looked up to see Spike finally waking up. He shook his head groggily and then looked around; he seemed disappointed that he had missed the fight. At the same time the undamaged limousine revved its engine and forced its way past the earlier collision towards the exit. Looking up, Spike saw the car getting away and leapt to his feet with surprising quickness.

 "Oh no you don't you bloody sods. That's my ring!" Spike shouted as he ran, actually catching up to the limousine. He had almost made it to the bumper, was three steps away from jumping onto the trunk, when the car raced into the sunlight waiting outside. Spike screeched to a halt mere inches from the daylight, and barely stopped himself from becoming a toaster pastry. He cursed loudly and ran back the way he had come, thinking he would jump into Oz's van and give chase, but that plan was ruined when he was in sight of the fight scene that he had missed. The van was practically trashed; it would never catch the limousine. He cursed loudly again and stomped towards Angel who was helping Oz into a sitting position.

 Spike reached out and grabbed Angel's shoulder, pulling him up and turning him around at the same time. Angel automatically brought up a fist but lowered it when he saw it was Spike.

 "They're gettin' away!" Spike exclaimed, appalled.

 "So what? Let them go," Angel ordered, turning back to Oz, who was still shielding his eyes.

 Spike grabbed his shoulder and spun him around again, "They've got my ring. We had a deal, so unless you get that ring back for me, right now, you can consider your friends worm food."

 Angel growled, not in the mood to hear his friends be threatened, and picked up Spike by the lapels once more, "That's not gonna happen. You're going to leave me alone, leave Buffy alone, and leave Wolfram and Hart alone. Also, you're gonna leave LA, and go somewhere else, anywhere else but Sunnydale, and you're never going to come back. You got it?"

 "And why would I want to do a thing like that?" Spike asked, cocky as always as he shook himself free.

 Angel reached into his pocket, "Cause if you don't, you won't get this."

 In his hand he held the ring of Amara (another one of the reasonable facsimiles Cordelia had found anyway) which immediately grabbed Spike's attention. Smiling, he took a step back and held out his hand expectantly, "Well, when you put it that way."

 Angel did not smile back, "Remember Spike, we had a deal. You break that deal and I'm going to hunt you down, and what you did to me earlier today will look like a game of chess compared to what I'll do to you."

 "Yeah, I got it, my ring," Spike requested, not the least bit put off. Angel gave it to him.

 "Now go."

 "Gladly," Spike's smile widened as he slipped the ring on and took a deep breath, as if he were a new person.

 Angel seemed satisfied and turned back to Oz who was trying to rise on his own with his eyes still clenched shut. Moving slowly, Angel reached out and took his arm to help him.

 "How you doing?" Angel asked, relieved to hear Spike walking away behind him, whistling merrily.

 "I think it's wearing off," Oz replied. Though his eyes were shut, he had moved his hands from his face. Angel couldn't see any damage there, his face looked normal, although tear streaked from the pain.

 "I think you'll be okay, your van's this way," Angel began to lead him but Oz wouldn't budge.

 "Doyle? Cordy?" He asked, having not heard from either of them.

 "They're okay," Angel said, looking to see Cordy attempting to help Doyle to his feet. "Actually, stay here a second, I think they need a hand." 

 Oz nodded, unable to do anything else. The pain was still there in his eyes and he knew opening them so they could be bombarded with light would make it that much worse, so for now he kept them closed.

 Angel jogged over to the odd couple and immediately pulled Doyle's arm over his shoulder to steady him.

 "What's wrong with Oz?" Cordy asked immediately, clearly worried.

 "The warlock did something to him, we think it's wearing it off though. Why don't you go help him out, I got Doyle," Angel assured her. She looked at Doyle with the softest look yet, then nodded and moved to help Oz.

 "How's little Bam Bam really doing?" Doyle asked when they began their slow limp towards the van.

 "Bam Bam?" Angel questioned before answering.

 "Long story."

 "No way to tell really, we'll have to see. I think it'll wear off. I hope so anyway. How are you?" Angel asked seriously.

 "Bloody tired but I think I'll be all right. Just need some rest is all. And scotch, lots of scotch. And you're going to get it for me cause Spike stole all mine, the son of a bitch," Doyle's voice held pure venom and Angel winced. He had basically let Spike go with a warning, having not felt it a good time to get into a life or death brawl with him. 

 "I'll get you some good stuff."

 "Good stuff? It better be as old as you to make up for this day," Doyle grunted as they continued to stagger along. They soon made it to Oz's van, which really wasn't in that bad a shape other than the crushed bumper. The engine still ran and Cordy and Oz were in the front seat.

 When they approached Cordy got out and announced rather gravely, "We have a problem."

 It was then Angel noticed that Oz's eyes were open, and he turned to the vampire with a frighteningly blank gaze.

 "I'm blind."

TBC

With a cliffie like that I better be extra special nice to my readers.

Iverson – I like Oz being there too. I'm thinking of writing another fic with him in it, it's just hard to find reasons for him to be in LA. I'm considering writing one where he goes back there after he leaves Sunnydale after the Veruca thing, but I have to finish this one first obviously.

IceBlueRose – Ah, what a nice review. I'm glad you're enjoying. It's cool that we like all the same characters. Go us!

Tap Dancing Widow – lol, man, if you thought he was dumb last chapter I can't wait to hear what you think of him now!

  


Caytlyn88 – Ha! That was a nothing cliffhanger. If you read any of my LotR fics you know I'm horrible for cliffies, I love writing 'em.

Vivid Butterfly – Yeah, early seasons Spike is a dork, but he becomes much less dorky as the series continued. He was just a lovesick fool really.

  


Templa Otmena – yep, no more warlock. Oz did his best, but he couldn't get the job done. Saved Doyle and Cordy though. Hope you don't mind the cliffie (I seem to be apologizing for it so much already) but the fic is starting to wind down now and I had to get some suspense in there somewhere.

Connor assassin – nope, not full moon. Oz is just feeling a little brave this evening.

Thanks for the reviews, glad to hear from all of you. Just a little bit of fic left. Robinyj ^_^


	7. Consequences

Hope you all have been enjoying the story. It's coming to a close shortly, probably in the next chapter. Please review and tell me what you think because I'm thinking of doing a sequel.

To Catch a Thief

by Robinyj

"I'm squishing up my baby bumblebee, won't my mommy be so proud of me? I'm squishing up my baby bumblebee …" Spike stopped humming and finished off the chorus with a series of cheerful whistles, feeling extremely proud of himself and all his hard work. 

 _Cor_, Angel can be a git sometimes. Like I'm not going to go right back to Sunnydale and pay the Slayer back for giving away my hard earned ring in the first place. Then I can come on back to LA and Peaches and I are gonna have a nice looong chat ... with some more hot pokers.__

The thought made Spike's smile widen even more, and his grin threatened to crack his face. Still whistling, he jumped for joy and actually clicked his heels together. Then he switched to another song and began singing again.

 "It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood, a beautiful day in the neighbourhood …" 

 His eyes lit up as he reached the end of the parking lot and stood at the edge of the parking doors. He was one step away from the sunlight.

_ It's only been a week since I walked in the sunshine but I miss it already. Maybe I am a softie, who bloody cares? There's no other vamp that gets to have this._

Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, Spike stomped out his cigarette and took his last step.

 "Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Shining sun, please shine down on meeeee Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!" 

 Spike raced back into the protection of the parking lot and tore the duster from his back. He patted down his back and arms, desperately dousing the flames and stepped on his coat in an attempt to save it from the fire. 

 "Bloody, sodding, good for nothing, son of a biiiiiiiitch!!!!!!!!!" Spike screamed, irate beyond all reason. Though the fire was long since extinguished he jumped up and down on his coat like a little kid, attempting to vent his frustration. 

 The sun had burned him! It wasn't supposed to burn him. It was his friend when he had the ring on. Spike tore the ring from his finger and looked at it closely, he wasn't sure but he thought the stone looked like it was cut differently, and he was pretty certain he was sure because if it was the real ring he wouldn't have burst into flames like he had when he stepped outside. 

 "That manky, lying bastard. I'll rip out his heart and feed it to him," Spike promised as he ran back into the parking lot. But it was too late. When he got there the van was gone and he had no way to follow them. 

Screaming in anger he punched a concrete wall and watched dispassionately as crack appeared in the stone and blood appeared on his hand. Spike sighed, his ire spent, and fell back bonelessly against the pillar. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long, deep drag as he sunk down to the floor.

 "Why? Why me? I mean, I follow the rules don't I? I keep my end of the bargains. What do the evil gods have against me? Are they jealous of my good looks? My natural athletic build? Well that's not my fault is it? You can't blame a bloke for that. It isn't fair." He muttered as he settled in for the day, knowing he couldn't go anywhere until nightfall.

 _Maybe __Canada__'s nice this time of year. I could go there for awhile, taste myself some canucks, get some damn good beer. Yeah, that might be a plan._

But he doubted Canada held the answers he looked for. Though it couldn't hurt to look.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

 Doyle and Angel stood in shocked silence for a moment. Doyle looked to Cordy, hoping it was some sick joke, but her eyes held only pity and sadness. Angel released Doyle, allowing him to lean against the side of the van, and stepped towards Oz. He waved a hand in front of the musician's face and Oz's eyes, which were now an eerie, encompassing black, did not follow or acknowledge it. It was true, he couldn't see.

 "Oh god no, no, this isn't right," Doyle began ranting, his own pain completely forgotten as he also stepped forward, "It can't be, can it? I mean, it's going to wear off right? Werewolves healing quickly and all that, one of the few perks of being part demon."

 Oz shrugged, his stoic expression beginning to crack under the stress and terror of the situation, "I don't know, it's never come up before," he said softly.

 "Oz, I'm so sorry," Angel said, deeply sympathetic and sincere. "You never should have been involved in this."

 "No man, it's all right. We fight evil, we take risks. It was my choice to come along," Oz assured him but his voice was less sturdy than his words, "Don't even worry about it, I'm sure it's going to wear off … sometime."

 Behind them Cordelia was almost in tears.

 "We should probably get going," Doyle suggested after a long moment of silence.

 Angel nodded, "Yeah, these guys are going to wake up soon. We better move. Cordy, can you drive?"

 Cordelia took a deep breath to compose herself and replied yes. Angel helped Doyle into the back along with Oz, who insisted he'd prefer it back there with them. Cordelia sat down in the front and began looking the vehicle over, trying to find the lever to pull the seat up closer to the pedals.

 "Oz, how do I move the seat?" Cordelia asked. Oz leaned forward as if to show her.

 "Oh, it's right …" Oz stopped when he realized he could not see so could not show her himself. He gulped back the fear the realization brought and described it to her, "It's uh, it's on the left side, behind the seat belt."

 Eyes filled with sympathy, Cordelia found the lever and pulled herself up. Just as she was about to try and move a scream of pain echoed through the parking lot, followed by an even louder string of cusses. Everyone's head shot up, looking for the source. 

 Unable to see, Oz asked, "What was that?"

 Angel's lips quirked into an awkward smile, "I think Spike just tried to take his first step into the sunshine with his fake ring. We better get out of here."

 Cordelia agreed and pulled the van forward, flinching when she heard the bumper fall off onto the ground as they moved out of the crash. Checking to make sure Angel was in the back, fully blocked off from all light, she drove out of the parking lot, not surprised to see the parking attendant, Karen, had left work early and the booth was unmanned.

 In the back, Oz sat behind the passenger seat, his knees drawn close to his chest and his hands running through his hair every few seconds. Doyle and Angel watched him, unable to keep from feeling guilty and worried. Doyle, with Oz's coat still wrapped over his shoulders, shifted and flinched noticeably as the lacerations and bruises on his back woke up once more in the silence of the vehicle. Angel noticed and called him on it.

 "Doyle, don't move. There's a first aid kit here somewhere I think…" Angel trailed off as he looked for it.

 "Underneath the driver's seat," Oz supplied. Angel reached underneath and found it.

 Doyle instinctively wrapped the coat tighter around him, "It's not that bad you know, don't worry about it."

 Before Angel could reply Cordelia called out from the front, "So which hospital are we going to?"

 "No hospitals!" Oz and Doyle called out simultaneously, the Irishman more emphatic than the laconic musician.

 "What? Do you want to bleed to death or something?" Cordy demanded. After seeing how he reacted at Doyle's apartment she understood Oz's reasoning at least for not wanting to go; he was paranoid about infecting anyone else with his curse. But she knew of no reason why Doyle should want to avoid hospitals.

 Doyle cast a desperate look to Angel; Cordy didn't know he was half-demon, and he didn't want to tell her – yet. But how else could he explain his inability to get regular human care?

 "Look, they ask a lot of questions at those places and I don't have any real good answers to give them. Besides, I don't like hospitals. I've had some bad experiences." Doyle finished lamely, having no such qualms but hoping she'd fall for it. "And it's not like we have any way to pay for it either."

 "Oh my god men are stubborn! Fine, bleed to death, infect to death, I don't care," Cordy huffed, accelerating.

 "She gets a little grumpy when she doesn't get her way," Doyle pointed out to Oz, who smiled.

 "I know." Oz said, and Doyle momentarily felt like a moron as he remembered that Oz had known Cordelia a lot longer than him.

 "Suppose you would," Doyle trailed off and the silence returned to the vehicle. 

 "Not to darken the mood, cause you know, that can't happen, but what are Wolfram and Hart going to do when they find out we gave them a fake ring?" Cordelia asked from the front after a long silence.

 Angel shrugged, "There's no way to know and I don't really care. I think one of their goons was conscious when I gave Spike the fake one, so they might think he has it."

 "That'd be great, then he could have a fun little go around with the lawyers from hell," Doyle muttered vindictively from the back as he leaned against the cool surface of the van walls.

 _I doubt they'd catch him_, Angel thought, but kept it to himself.

 Eventually they arrived back at the Agency. Cordelia parked in an alley behind the building that blocked out the sun and they went in through the back. Angel helped Doyle out of the van and ordered him inside and to sit down as Cordelia guided Oz from the back of the van, explaining the landscape so he would know what to expect.

 "Okay, garbage can on your left. You're good for a couple feet. Okay, we're at the door and now we're inside. And I think we're heading for Angel's office," Cordy supplied helpfully, wanting to do all she could. 

 "Thanks Cordy," Oz said, reaching all depths of sincerity. Cordy smiled and assured him it was no problem. When they reached the office Angel and Doyle were there, and it sounded like they were fighting.

 "Look, I'm just tired," Doyle complained, laying down on the couch and wrapping the coat tighter around him, "Just let me grab 40 or 700 winks and I'll be right as LA's acid rain."

 Cordy left Oz in the doorway and stomped over to the couch, grabbing Doyle's arm, "Oh no you don't, no sleeping. Possible concussion remember? Not that your thick skull would notice. So stay awake. And if you're not going to go to a hospital, like a sensible person, then you have to get bandaged up before you get worse." Cordelia was being bossy again and she knew it, but she was also concerned. "I'm not about to let you get all infected and feverish and dying on us when we worked so hard to get you here, so get up!"

 "Fine, I'm coming," Doyle raised his hands in surrender, he was too tired to fight with her and she sensed that. Cordelia took one of the hands and helped him to his feet.

 "Good, now let's get you cleaned up."

 "_You're_ going to patch me up?" Doyle asked incredulously, assuming she would be disgusted by blood, or think the entire thing was too 'icky' or something.

 "Hey, I took a healthcare class in high school, and I nearly passed it so get moving," Cordelia demanded again as she tugged lightly on his arm. Oz heard their voices and footsteps come closer so moved farther into the room and out of the doorway, hoping not to hit a plant or something. Cordelia gave him a sympathetic glance as she passed and turned to Angel at the last second with a look indicating he had to take care of Oz.

 "Oz, we're going to figure out what happened to you okay? There must be a spell or disgusting potion that can fix you up and we'll find it," she suddenly smiled mischievously at Angel. "That means you're in charge of research," Cordelia announced, then vanished down the hall with her patient.

 "Research?" Angel spluttered, going after her a few steps, "Wait … I … I don't do research." He turned to Oz, "Have I ever done research?" Oz shrugged. "Yeah, Cordy I don't do research well."

 "Deal with it," Cordy called out and disappeared. 

 "I think you just got volunteered," Oz remarked. Angel sighed.

 "Yeah, gotta learn sometime I guess. Hey, uh, come sit down or something," Angel suggested, remembering Oz couldn't get around himself. He took hold of the musician's arm and led him to the couch.

 "Thanks man."

 "No problem."

 Silence.

 "Umm….." It was painfully clear Angel was extremely uncomfortable. Once again, he didn't do comfort well.

 "Research," Oz recommended and Angel sat up.

 "Right, research on the … freaky guy and the eye thing. Okay …" he ran his finger along several old books on a shelf behind him, quickly reading their titles. "So what was this guy a warlock or a mage … a wizard maybe?"

 Oz had no clue, "I really don't know anything about the differences. I did notice something weird, he had one all blue eye and one all white one; there was no iris at all."

 "Okay, that's something we can work with," Angel mumbled, not mentioning to Oz that his own eyes were now completely black.

 "And he chanted."

 "He chanted?"

 "Chanted."

 "What did he chant?"

 "Um, it sounded Latin or something, it was right before he shot me or whatever he did. Something with cars. Cartote, carton, car, kar, kartoth. I think it was Kartoth." Oz said, relatively sure.

 Angel's face was grim, "My Latin's a bit rusty, I don't know what that means."

 "Willow would," Oz announced. Angel nodded.

 "I'll give her a call," Angel offered but Oz wouldn't allow it.

 "No, I'll do it. I'll have to tell her sometime I guess." He sounded defeated and Angel wouldn't allow it.

 "Oz listen to me, I'm sure this is reversible, or temporary or something. There's an answer, and we're going to find it and you're going to see again. I promise." Angel said emphatically. Oz smiled, his gaze not quite on Angel's face and nodded. "We've never not found an answer to a problem, and we're not going to start batting out now."

 "Thanks, but don't feel obligated or guilty or anything. I knew what I was in for when I signed up," Oz assured him, even though blindness had in fact never crossed his mind.

 "I know, but I'm still going to help, it's just I'm more of a knocking heads kind of guy; research isn't really in me. You want to call now?" Oz nodded and Angel moved the phone next to the couch and then dialled for him. "I'll be in the hallway." The vampire said, moving out of the room but unable to get much farther than the doorway. Feeling bad for eavesdropping, he stood in the hallway and listened; Oz's voice was clear, if somewhat shaky, and after several rings he could faintly hear Willow on the other end.

 "Will?"

 "Oz, hey. How's LA? Is your van fixed yet?"

 "It is and it isn't. It's a long story. I'm uh …" His voice cracked and faded. He couldn't tell her.

 "What's wrong?"

 "Nothing. It's just, I'm helping Angel with a case here and then I'll be home, as soon as possible. But it might be awhile."

 "Oh, okay. Does he need Buffy or the rest of us, cause there's nothing really …"

 "No. It's nothing huge like that. We just needed your help with something. Do you know what 'Kartoth' means? If it were used in a spell or something?"

 "I think it's Latin. Roughly translated it means something like "to block from sight". I don't know what that would be in a spell though. You're not fighting something that's invisible are you?"

 "No, it's nothing like that. Thanks babe, you helped a lot."

 "You sure you're okay?"

 His voice almost cracked, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, it's been a long day. Tell Buff I said hi."

 "I will. Love you."

 "Love you too." He said quietly and then hung up the phone, careful not to miss the cradle. With a frustrated sigh that might have been half a sob he looked to where he remembered the window to be and willed his eyes to see, to see anything. But there was only blackness. Only the dark.

 What if he never saw Willow again?

 The thought struck him so hard it was like a blow to the chest. Rage and panic began to build up inside him and he stood up, intent on releasing his frustration but ran into the desk edge before he got two steps. He floundered for a moment, scared since no one was around, and he had had the wind knocked out of him. Then the rage returned and he pounded his fist hard against the desk and kicked the leg as he shouted:

 "Uhh!!" 

 Then he turned to kick something else, but tripped over a stool and toppled to the ground.

 "Dammit!" He exclaimed as he landed hard on his knees, and punched the floor in frustration. Then all the fight left him and he felt along the floor to the desk again and leaned against it, cradling his head in his hands. Oz stayed there for a long time, scared for the worst and terrified to hope for the best. And as he wondered how anyone could live like this, never seeing the world around them, tears of frustration and loss slipped from his sightless eyes.

 Angel watched from the doorway, not even breathing to keep from making a sound, and knew he could offer no comfort to the young man, and also knew that he didn't want pity. And because he knew these things he walked silently away and left him to his grief.

TBC

Hey all, well the next chapter's the last one. This is the time I'd really like some responses cause I'm thinking of doing a sequel where Oz arrives during the episode "Hero" and keeps Doyle from dying and I wanted to know if anyone would be interested in that.

Anyway, on to my great reviewers, I appreciate you all J

Random Insane Person – Yes, I'm actually glad you didn't see the blind thing coming, I was worried it was predictable.

Greywolf Lupous – If I wrote a sequel it would have Oz and Doyle for sure. This was kind of a long wait, and I'm sorry but the holidays were hectic.

Sethoz – You'll have to wait and see. I might cure him, I might not. BTW – I loved your LXG fic, very nice.

Templa Otmena – I don't think this cliffie is as bad, hope you enjoy it.

Connor – Sorry, just Oz in this fic, it's not a full crossover with Buffy.

IceBlueRose – I could never "poof" Spike!! That's just wrong. But this did take longer than I thought it would, the next, and final, chapter will be out in a few days, I promise.

That's it for me. Hope to hear from you. Robinyj


	8. Epilogue

Hope you've all enjoyed the ride, it's the last chappy. It's been great.

To Catch a Thief

By Robinyj

"Sit down and take off that coat," Cordelia ordered as soon as they were in the bathroom. Doyle obliged, his movements slow and deliberate, and took a seat on the toilet as Cordy rummaged through the medicine cabinet in search of the first aid kit.

 "Ah, I found … oh my god." Any exuberance she may have had left, left her when she saw the true damage done to Doyle for the first time. Blood trickled in red streams down his back, some dry, some fresh, the cuts that the blood oozed from were deep and long, forming two X's, one at the top of his spine and one at the bottom, then there were the burn marks. All down his back, and his chest to a lesser extent, there were circular burn marks, that all looked just about the same size as a cigarette. His skin almost didn't appear human; every inch that wasn't covered with blood, burns or lacerations was inflicted with deep purple bruising. The shock at seeing the wounds startled Cordelia so badly she dropped the first aid kit.

 "Oh, god Doyle, I'm so sorry," Cordelia didn't know what she was apologizing for, but after what he had gone through she felt she had to offer her grievances.

 Doyle tried to shrug, but it hurt too much, "It's not that bad Princess, I'll be up and around in no time flat. Us micks are tougher than we look."

 The words didn't fool Cordy but she accepted them and opened up her first aid kit. She took out the alcohol and cotton swabs, warned him that it might sting and began to clean out the cuts and burns. Doyle tensed but didn't say anything as she treated him. As she moved onto the small burns she asked:

 "Did uh … did Spike do this or the lawyers?"

 Doyle tried to look at her but his neck was sore too and he didn't get around, "Um, Spike mostly. Compared to 'im the suits took pretty good care of me."

 Cordelia just nodded, not knowing what else to say. His hand came up and took hers, forcing her to make eye contact.

 "Thank you Princess, for rescuing me … and for caring," Doyle said sincerely and thoughtfully.

 "I uh … it's no big deal. It's just … Angel. Angel needs you and everything so, yeah," Cordelia stumbled over her words, flustered by the gentle look in Doyle's eyes. 

 "Yeah," Doyle mumbled in reply, releasing her hand and turning back around. Cordy sighed and continued to clean the deep cuts on his back. Her hands were gentle and timid, afraid to hurt him more, but determined to care for him. Doyle wasn't worried about infection though; he would heal pretty quickly due to his demon half. He was mostly worried about healing too quickly and Cordelia noticing the inhuman rate that he recovered, but there was nothing to do about that. 

The room was quiet after that, and the air was thick with all that wasn't said and needed to be. Cordelia quickly changed the subject to Oz and asked Doyle if he knew anything that may help him get his sight back. Maybe he'd seen something at the law firm?

 "No, not really. That warlock was bad news but I didn't recognize his kind. It was black magick I know that much at least, but I don't know how that'll help Oz, there's lots of different kinds of magick users," Doyle supplied.

 Cordelia had faith though, faith in the Scoobies back in Sunnydale, "Buffy will figure out how to fix him. Well, maybe not her, she just fights the evil, but Giles will know for sure. He knows more about demons than I even want to think about; it goes the same for magicks and spells, although when I left it was becoming more Willow's department and she definitely won't stop looking for a cure for him until she's exhausted every source possible…"

 Doyle closed his eyes and listened as she rambled on. He could listen to her all day and he felt safe with her hands gently wrapping his back and chest with gauze and bandages. This was the closest he had ever been to her, both physically and emotionally and he liked it. In fact he was so content that it wasn't long before his eyes began to droop and his shoulders sagged until he was sleeping peacefully leaned up against Cordelia's knees.

 "Doyle are you listening? Doyle? Yu-hu, Doyle? Oh," She was at a loss for a moment when she realized he was asleep. "Okay, this is awkward. Let's just get you …" Cordelia trailed off as she tried to move him without hurting him in anyway. It was proving difficult.

 Luckily Angel came along just then, having left Oz to deal with his own pain, and carried Doyle gently to the downstairs apartment where he laid him softly on the bed, turned off the lights and let him rest.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

 When Angel returned upstairs he found Cordy standing nervously at the end of the hallway, clearly reluctant to take the last few steps to the office. Angel came up behind her, making enough noise that she knew he was there, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him thankfully, and then looked down the hall to Angel's office where their guest was currently alone.

 "I want to help him somehow, but I don't know any magic and I don't have any sources and I can't kick butt like you. The least I can do is go in there and talk to him, try to cheer him up or something, but …"

 "What?" Angel asked, not understanding her reluctance.

 "He's always been so … withdrawn, you know. He's not exactly a Mr. Sit-down-and-talk-for-hours kind of guy. I don't even know if he wants someone with him," Cordelia admitted, clearly torn.

 "I think he does. Oz may not have a lot to say most of the time, but he's always there for the people he cares about, we should do the same for him. Why don't you take him to your place for the night, so he can get some real sleep? Who knows, maybe when he wakes up it'll have worn off," Angel offered optimistically, though he didn't really hold out much hope of that. "I'll stay here with Doyle."

 Cordelia nodded and finally descended down the hallway. Slowly approaching the doorway, she peered in and saw Oz. He was sitting on the floor, back against the desk and knees drawn into his chest. His unseeing eyes were focussed on a spot on the floor and Cordelia thought he might have been crying. She easily could have sat down with him, shared in his grief and let him sink deeper and deeper into despair, but misery only begets more misery so she decided to go with the casual approach, in hopes of lifting his spirits.

 She sighed dramatically as she finally entered, walked quickly by him as if the floor was a perfectly normal place to sit, and plopped herself on the couch with a swish.

 "Woo, I'm exhausted. It's been such a long day, I just want to go home and have a nice long bath."

 Oz started at the sound of her voice and shook himself into alertness. His back automatically straightened when she entered and he wiped away the evidence of his tears. He nodded at her words and tried to steady his voice for his reply.

 "Yeah, the day's been kind of rough."

 "Why don't we both head over to my place? My sofa's a pullout; it's not the Ritz or anything, but it beats Angel's couch if you want to use it. Besides, he needs that for his brooding." Cordelia said, her voice light and uplifting. Oz's lips turned up in what she knew was a smile for him.

 "Sure, that sounds great," Oz replied simply, not having the strength to argue, much like Doyle earlier.

 "Fantastic, but I do have a no brood rule so if you want that futon you'll have to be the fun-loving Oz I know and love."

 Oz quirked an eyebrow at this.

 "Well, not _love_ love. Friend love, and personality love; all that good kind of love," Cordelia stammered.

 "It was more the "fun-loving" part that caught me off guard actually," Oz confessed.

 "Oh well, you don't really have to do that either, just no brooding."

 Oz lifted his hand in a mock salute, "Scout's honor."

 "Great," Cordelia said, getting up and offering him a hand up off the floor. He gladly accepted and didn't release her arm as he stood, needing her for guidance. She didn't mind in the least.

 "How's Doyle?" Oz asked suddenly, bringing down the mood and coming very close to 'brood-mode'.

 "He's good, I guess. I fixed him up the best I could and I think he'll be okay. He's sleeping, but I can take you down to see him if you want." Cordelia missed her slip of the tongue too late. Oz couldn't _see anything._

 He flinched noticeably and tried to cover it up, "No, that's okay. I'll see him tomorrow probably. I just … I just wanna get some rest."

 Cordelia understood and led the way out of the building. Oz shuffled along beside her, his arm strung through hers as they walked. 

 "Thanks for everything you're doing," he said sincerely as they neared the door.

 "It's no problem, don't even worry about it," she told him. She released his arm for a moment to push open the heavy back door leading to the alley. It had been a few hours since they had arrived and the alleyway was now bathed in sunlight. The door opened and the warm rays filtered into the hallway, and with them came a cry of pain from Oz.

 Cordy turned as the musician yelled and tried to catch him as he flung himself away from the light. His hands went up to his eyes and he clutched at them as they burned. Cordelia wasn't strong enough to keep them up and they fell to the floor in a heap, Oz gasping for breath with his hands over his face and Cordelia worriedly trying to help.

 "Oz, what's wrong? What happened?"

 Oz did not answer as the pain behind his eyes banished all memory of how to speak. 

 "Angel! Help! Angel!" Cordy screamed when Oz did not respond.

 "What's wrong? What happened?" Angel asked as he raced down the hall, wary of the sunlight nearby but not letting it keep him from helping. He took hold of Oz's shoulder gently and helped him into a sitting position as his breathing came under control.

 "I don't know," Cordelia exclaimed, "I opened the door and he screamed and he fell like the sun was burning him or something; he looked a lot like you do when that happens."

The pain was slowly dying away and the werewolf started to become aware of his surroundings. It had hurt as much as when the warlock first shot him, and the agony was wracking his body once more, but as he pulled in several deep breaths there was only one thought on his mind; did I just see light?

 "Not my skin, just my eyes," Oz said, finally removing his hand from his face. He squinted hard and looked up above them, directly at the overhead light. "Light. I can see light." 

 Angel reached a hand out and forced Oz's gaze to meet his own. As his eyes were drawn from the light the musician found he could see nothing else, but Angel noticed that the pitch blackness of his eyes had faded slightly.

 "It must be wearing off," Angel said, smiling.

 "Black magick!" Cordelia yelled. Oz and Angel turned to her, confused. She gave them her best 'duh' look. "Doyle said the wizard guy with the bad hair was using black magick; doesn't it make sense that the sun would, you know, destroy black magick, it being not-black and all?"

 "She's right," Oz agreed. "After the sunlight hit me it hurt, but I can see light now. There's nothing else though; I can't see any images."

 "Maybe it just takes time," Cordelia suggested as they stood up. She took his arm and began to guide him down the hall, thinking he should rest here after all.

 Oz shook his arm free, a determined look on his face, "No, it takes more sun." Then he turned and followed the only thing he could see, the light spilling in from the open door. Cordelia tried to grab his arm back and Angel made a grab for him too but soon he was in the alley once more, standing in the sunshine and looking into the sky. 

 "Ah!" he cried again as his eyes burned once more and he flung himself back into the hallway to safety. He fell to all fours as the pain once again overtook him. Cordelia and Angel were instantly beside him as he simultaneously healed and hurt.

 "Come on Oz, there's got to be a better way," Angel rebuked him, taking his arm before he recovered fully and moving him further down the hallway. Oz tried to push him away but didn't have the strength or coordination. He couldn't speak because he knew if he opened his mouth only a whimper or some other sound of pain would escape, so he stayed silent until the pain passed. When it did he looked up slowly once more and blinked his eyes.

 "Oz, are you okay? Let's go back to Angel's office now, alright?" Cordelia said as she stared at him with his eyes that were even less dark than they had been.

 "Shapes, I can see shapes. It's working, I can almost see," and without a second thought he rose and tried to head back outside but Angel grabbed him and wouldn't let go.

 "Hold on, if you insist on doing this at least wait awhile; let your body recover," Angel requested, but his voice was firm and demanding. Still Oz argued.

 "No, just a little more and I think I'll be able to see. Let me go just once more," Oz pleaded, pulling and fighting for his freedom.

 "No Oz. Let's wait and see if your sight comes back on its own, and if it doesn't the sun's not going anywhere. I just don't want us to do more damage than good," Angel explained, pulling Oz to face him. The musician finally let go of his goal and nodded, but looked longingly to the doorway where the sun still crept.

 "Okay, I'll wait. But just for awhile," he said. His voice was thick from the anxiety of the situation, and the utter relief of a very real cure.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

 Doyle tossed and turned, trapped in the throws of a nightmare, but whether it was caused by the past few days, or the past horrors he had seen in his life, he did not remember when he woke up, gasping.

 Sitting up abruptly wasn't a good idea though as his head began to spin with headrush and his body pulsed with aches and pains from his many injuries that had now settled into constant pain. With a groan he fell back down on the pillows and sighed.

 _Maybe if I sleep for a few years I'll feel better_, he thought as he shut his eyes once more, but a voice interrupted his sought after rest.

 "You want a few Tylenol or something, man?"

 Doyle jumped a little at the sound but didn't move off the bed. He cracked opened one eye then closed it, sighing.

"Scotch would be great, Angel owes me some good shite," Doyle told the voice that he knew belonged to Oz.

 "Luckily we got that too."

 Doyle opened his eyes at this, intrigued. Oz was sitting casually in an easy chair that he had pulled beside the bed and smiled genuinely at the shocked expression on Doyle's face. The Irishman had every reason to be happily surprised though, Oz's eyes were clear of the horrible blackness that had overtaken them and his natural, seeing eyes were watching him.

 "Your eyes. You're all fixed up," Doyle noticed with a grin.

 "Yeah, I'm back to 20-20," Oz announced happily.

 "Well that's lovely, you get your sight back and one of the first things you see is my ugly mug," Doyle joked, overjoyed by this news. "What happened?"

 "Seems you were right; it was black magick, which sunlight acts pretty strongly against apparently. Took awhile but it wore off eventually after a little time in the sun," Oz explained, negating to mention the incredible pain that had accompanied every trip outside to get his sight back. It had been worth it though, it had been painfully worth it. Nothing was worse than the darkness he had been immersed in, nothing was more horrible than the never-ending abyss of blindness.

 "That's great man … is that for me?" Doyle quickly spotted the tumbler on the bedstand. Oz handed him an already poured glass of scotch.

 "Angel left it for you, says you should be happy to know it's probably older than your grand-father," Oz said.

 "Just the way I like it," Doyle claimed as he sipped it lovingly, then coughed rather harshly. "Oh, he wasn't joking. This stuff has had a bicentennial. Wow, you should try it."

 "Nah, I gotta drive, I'm heading back home soon," Oz explained. This was clearly his final good-bye.

 "Riding off into the sunset and all that?" Doyle joked as he shot back the last of his scotch.

 "Something like that," Oz agreed, standing. He held out his hand, which Doyle gladly took, and shook it firmly out of respect.

 "Thanks for everything you did here; it would have been a crappy weekend with you," Doyle remarked. Oz gave him a questioning glare, "Well, crappier than the crap it was anyway."

 Oz laughed, "It was no problem. It was nice meeting you Doyle, you're an interesting fellow. You should come on down to Sunnydale if you get the chance."

 "Meet your Princess?" Doyle asked and Oz nodded, "Sure, why not? But you feel free to come back to LA."

 "Deal," Oz agreed, releasing the handshake. The two smiled and Oz hefted his backpack and headed for the door.

 "See you around, man," he said in parting, and Doyle offered a meagre half wave.

 "See ya."

 "Oh," Oz said, turning around, "She likes jewellery."

 "Who?"

 "Cordy. A necklace, or a locket; she'll love it," Oz said, sounding very knowing. 

 "All right, thanks," Doyle said gratefully. Oz smiled, ascended the stairs and was gone.

 Doyle lay back down, still exhausted and in pain. After pouring himself another glass of scotch he started to wonder, about Oz and what the future would hold for him, and about himself and if he had a future with Cordy. He didn't know the answers, he probably never would, but he hoped to see the young man again for no other reason than that despite the enormous size of the world, he had few friends in it, and he wanted that to change. But would he see Oz again? He didn't know, but he hoped. Sometimes all you have is hope.

And with these thoughts he went back to sleep, content, and dreamt about hope.

The End

Well this was fun, we should do it again sometime. I've got another fic for a different fandom that I'd like to write first, but then I think I will write a sequel to this one. I kind of liked this one.

Anyway, time for my last thank you to my reviewers. Hope it's been a good trip for you all.

Sport – Well if you liked this one come on back when I do my sequel, it won't be for a few weeks though, I've got exams and school stuff for the next little while. You're right, Doyle needed more episodes, at least a whole season.

Irish-Dancer – Wow! I never even thought of actually getting the Latin translation, but I'm beyond impressed that you speak it. Very cool. See ya when I do my sequel.

Tap Dancing Widow – If I did a sequel it would probably be, "Oz shows up after leaving Sunnydale and lends a hand against the Scourge (since they'd be after him too, half breed and all). So Doyle wouldn't die at all, and as much as I like Wesley now, in season 4 and 5, I hated him when he first came cause he replaced my poor Doyle, so I probably won't bother with him at all."

Lunacat – Thanks for all the reviews. Things turned out good for Oz so I hope you liked the happy ending.

Thanks everyone for reading, it's been a blast. Robinyj


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